


Starbound

by novaisnotinsane



Category: Sanders Sides, Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders (Video Blogging RPF) - Fandom
Genre: AU, Angst, BUT I'M PUTTING A WARNING HERE JUST IN CASE, BUT NONE OF THEM ARE EXACTLY 'MAJOR' CHARACTERS SO I DIDN'T THINK IT WARRANTED THE WARNING, Blood, Bullying, Calrex the Pirate - Freeform, Calypso - Freeform, Death, Deceit Sanders - Freeform, Gen, I'm not sorry my brain only writes angst, Language, Logan Sanders - Freeform, Mentions of Injuries, Minor Character Death, OCs - Freeform, OKAY SO THERE ARE SEVERAL CHARACTERS WHO DIE, Panic Attacks, Patton Sanders - Freeform, People burning to death, Remy Sanders - Freeform, Remy is a steampunk, Roman Sanders - Freeform, Sanders Sides - Freeform, Sci-Fi, Sci-Fi AU, The Guardian - Freeform, The Lover - Freeform, The Scholar - Freeform, The Warrior, The beast - Freeform, The generals, Trigger Warnings, Violence, Virgil Sanders - Freeform, Wonderling is now in here, You ain't seen nothing yet, big grand finales, bullet wounds, don't be mad at me for the scene with wonder, don't worry they're okay, finally added the T rating 'cause of Cal's dirty mouth, hah you all thought you'd seen the worst of the angst, headcanons, i just really love her, i now call them Cal and Co., it has a plot now, it might have a plot eventually, mentioned/implied/referenced death, myths, pubs, sPACE BATTLES WOOT WOOOT, sanders sides au, she's a sweetheart, that's right Snackface McGee is in here, the mage, transphobic slur (just one)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-04-25 15:38:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 84,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14381718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novaisnotinsane/pseuds/novaisnotinsane
Summary: Calrex, better known as the Pirate, woke up in a strange spaceship surrounded by four strangers. All of them were brought together by intertwining destinies. They think the worst they'll have to face is Roman trying to outflirt a mermaid and failing. But what awaits is something far more dangerous, and it's hungry for their blood.Also known as:I had an idea for a Sanders Sides AU. It became several genres at once (adventure, sci-fi, dystopia, fantasy). Take my humble offerings please.(I promise it's not as cool as it sounds) (previously known as 'a story across time, space, and genres') (beta'd by my lovely friend TheLizziecat19! :D)





	1. Headcanons #1

**Author's Note:**

> So for now I'm offering headcanons of the characters. Please accept my offerings. :)

The Universe:  
-Made up of thousands of galaxies, what we mortals call “AUs”  
-Common languages include Laolae, Kirou, Aresan, and Falafel (I was hungry writing this)  
-Rumors say that there is a dangerous creature lurking in the cold depths of space, but only conspiracy theorists on message holograms would believe that…  
-Strings of galaxies are often ruled under one leader, because most species are kind and have their act together unlike humans  
-Speaking of humans, Earth is dead. :) there was a great meme war (haha no, it was something much more dark…)  
-Logan, Roman, Patton, and Virgil are all outlaws aboard the ship Sanders Yersinia, all with prices on their heads.

Logan:  
-A highly advanced prototype of AI-ingrained people. They look like people, function like people, but don’t have icky emotions get in the way of reasoning and judgement.  
-Oops Logan’s creator made a mistake so Logan does have something resembling emotions.  
-His original name is L.O.G.I.C., but whatever it stood for was lost to a fire, in which Logan’s creator also perished. Patton called him Logan by accident, and the name just stuck.  
-He is wanted for trying to break into a laboratory to “fix” himself and reprogram himself.  
-Logan is quiet and suffers from love… of learning. He unfortunately doesn’t have infinite memory, so he sometimes must delete some of his knowledge in order to acquire new information.  
-He is actually connected to the Cloud, which remained after Earth screwed themselves, so he understands all human languages and also has a secret habit of going onto human websites like Tumblr and YouTube. (He enjoys book commentaries and audiobooks.)  
-The most mature of the crew of Sanders Yersinia; plays adult way too often for his liking

Roman Prionsa:  
-A usurped prince from the Galaxy DR-34-M (i’m not creative lololol), on the run from the new King’s soldiers, who want to finish the job of destroying the royal family.  
-The biggest idiot of the crew  
-After Virgil introduced him to Disney, with the (unwilling) help of Logan, Roman won’t stop singing the songs and quoting them from heart. Virgil regrets his decision.  
-He suffers from constant nightmares, in which his family is burned alive at the stake at the hands of the one who exiled him and he can do nothing but watch.  
-Roman is very generous and understanding and gentle to everyone but can be extra and obnoxious with the flip of a Bitch Switch, which has landed the crew in several less-than-optimal situations.  
-One time Roman tried to out-flirt a mermaid on an aquaterrestrial planet and ending up burning down a couple trees and getting his head blown up double its size by said mermaid. (“It’s finally big enough to fit your ego!” -Virgil)  
-Despite his overly-dramatic “charm”, he won’t hesitate do run into battle if it means saving his crew members or innocent bystanders. He will also be extremely serious when the time calls for it.  
-He occasionally wears make-up because a pRINCE HAS GOT TO SLAY  
-Oh Roman also has butterfly wings he can unveil at any time and an everlasting flower crown/halo of light around his head. He was born glamorous.

Patton Hart:  
-His real name is Pattryon Heartasea, but “Patton Hart” is so much easier to say (and it doesn’t autocorrect, so there’s that, too).  
-He lived in a magical world called Noira, and is called a Drisine, also known as Shapeshifters.  
-Patton’s “true form” is a woodland creature similar to a centaur, but galloping is not allowed in the ship, so he has to settle for running around as a human. Patton’s true form is beautiful, full of flowers and cookies and everything fluffy ever to exist. You will actually die if you look upon his true form (unless you’re a Drisine yourself) because no-one can handle something so pure.  
-He has telekinesis, enhanced reflexes, and a larger spectrum of emotions.  
-This makes it harder from him to articulate his feelings, leaving him feeling misunderstood and sad.  
-The crew is known as the Patton Protection Squad, and will hunt down and destroy anyone who even looks at Patton wrong. They are alternatively known as the Virgil Protection Squad.  
-Patton loves baking and enjoys visiting markets on whichever planet they visit to gain new recipes and is already to cook for his fellow crew mates.  
-He is the closest thing the crew has to a fighter/soldier. But Patton doesn’t believe in hurting others who’re just doing what they’re told, so he refuses to fight, much to the dismay of everyone else.  
-His crime is refusing to fight. Noira is very close to Roman’s home planet, and thus is also under the rule of Roman’s family. As a teenager Drisine (his seventies in human years), he refused to fight for the royal family because it was against his morals and was thusly imprisoned.  
-Roman, on a tour on the castle in preparation for the day he would succeed his parents, saw Patton in a cell and immediately had him freed.  
-Roman and Patton are now inseparable friends and will die for each other without hesitation.

Virgil Sorge:  
-The last survivor from Earth. He witnessed its destruction and is now anxious that every little thing will destroy the last things he loves in his life.  
-He was 20 when he was picked up by a alien ship surrounded by blue and red lights.  
-He‘s quiet and moody and has really low alcohol tolerance, as discovered by Roman.  
-One of the only things from Earth that he took with him is his hoodie, which his mother hand-knit for him for his sixteenth birthday and is basically the last thing he has to remind him of her.  
-He knows every MCR, P!ATD, TOP, FOB, Green Day, Black Veil Brides, NateWantsToBattle, and Ivalo song there ever was (note: ivalo is not a real band, please don’t be confused when search results yield nothing about them).  
-He’s overprotective of his crew members and is always the first one to offer medical help in any situation.  
-Virgil is Logan’s apprentice. Logan knows there will be a day that he will break, so he’s training Virgil to do all of his jobs when that day comes. Virgil, of course, just thinks Logan wants to show off his knowledge, but he’ll do anything that’ll prove his worth.  
-Virgil technically never committed any crime, he was just so grateful to be saved from the dying Earth that he fought alongside the crew and eventually people just decided four troublemakers in jail is better than three.

Calrex Bennova:  
-My OC who I love. go and fight me. You can’t win against someone with a name this cool.  
-Calrex is from a planet lost to time and space. They hardly remember anything from their past, other than screaming and their parents’ silver eyes full of tears. (Foreboding, I know. You’re welcome my brain writes nothing but angst)  
-If they were human, they were be a mix between Alaskan Native American, Latinx, East Asian, and Pacific Islander. They basically look like a fusion between Yuuri Katsuki, Moana, Miguel from Coco, and an Inuit (I can’t name any Alaskan Native Americans because there’s NO REPRESENTATION in the media).  
-They’re originally found by the crew in a dark back alley behind a pub called “Sleeping Stars” and are taken into the crew because 1. they’re a badass bitch and the crew needs an actual fighter and 2. they have some pretty rough injuries.  
-When they wake up, they freak because why are they in a spaceship? and why is someone watching them as if they care? and if they don’t want to claim the bounty on their head, and they don’t want their body, what the fUCK DO THEY WANT? FRIENDSHIP?  
-Cal is known intergalatically as “The Pirate” because they have a history of petty offenses. Oh, and they also are rumored to have wiped out an entire galaxy without mercy. But even Cal doesn’t remember that, so…  
-They always wear combat boots. Always. Even to bed.  
-Their first night in the ship, they refuse to sleep with everyone else in the Dorms, so they sleep in the Control Center on the floor. But a mysterious member of the crew brings a sleeping Cal a blanket and a pillow :) kindness still exists, happily

Thomas:  
-The Sanders Yersinia’s A.I.  
-Loves making puns, overanalyzing every possible outcome of every possible situations, informing their passengers of useful information at the worst possible moment, and playing Disney songs to wake Roman up from his beauty sleep.  
-Logan even designed an avatar for Thomas that appears on the screen, though only his waist above is ever shown.  
-He can never be sad. Ever. You are doomed to always have an optimist’s perspective at the worst of moments.


	2. Offering #2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooohhhh I feel so happy that people like this!!!  
> I think I also forgot to mention that this is cross-posted on my Tumblr, also called novaisnotinsane :3

Remy Encastro:  
-name translates to “Child of the Sleeping Gods”  
-sassy af (and could pass as Roman’s sibling)  
-loved by everyone except those pesky gosh-darn-heckity-heck authorities  
-runs a pub called “Sleeping Stars” where ALL the outlaws like to congregate. just don’t eat Remy’s homemade pies, unless you want food poisoning…  
-essentially an intergalatic Robin Hood/Han Solo  
-the ONE time xe was ever jailed (which Patton will never let Remy forget) is when xe fell asleep immediately after crashing a stolen ship, because of course people won’t notice a GIANT, STOLEN SPACESHIP.  
-xe spend most of xyr time on the planet Alyth in a place called Weston Alley, a black magic and exotic goods market.  
-xe are covered in tattoos, many of them showcasing xyr exploits.  
-Remy has no gender or sex. Xyr home has no binary genders or sexes. It’s just one big hullabaloo of a spectrum. We should be like them.  
-xe have a banshee scream. Cal once popped up behind them and yelled “BOO MOTHERFU-” only to by cut off by Remy’s screech. They then had to replace of Remy’s windows and shot glasses.  
-Remy has long, flowy hair tied back into a ponytail. It’s silken, smooth, and changes color ~~like Roman changes his mind~~. It goes from holo to purple to green to literally ever hue known to humankind to FREAKIN INFRARED AND ~~plus~~ ULTRAVIOLET (please don’t film theory me and see if this is scientifically possible).  
-xe can’t be caged. Xe will always get out of every sticky situation because Remy is that one character that somehow manages not to die.  
-after Virgil introduced Remy to the cloud and xe learned about social injustices, xe are ready to shout “OUTLAW-ING IS PUNK!” at any given moment.  
-also likes to scream “SHINY!”  
-favorite cocktail is a Harvey Wallbanger  
-wake xem up before noon and you will see the face of death.

Draven Dolos:  
-the one who usurped Roman/ Roman’s uncle  
-A FALSEHOOD ON EVERY LEVEL OF BEING  
-has a maniacal laugh  
-as of late, he has suffered from cough fits and pounding headaches. At least, that’s what the castle has reported.  
-he will never get rid of his crown. Never.  
-his crown, by the way, is interlocking silver threads made to resemble a thorn-like plant called “fara” which is known for its deadly power (*evil, foreboding laugh*)  
-his eyes are silver and glow when he reads your mind. Oh, he can read minds, by the way. And also telepathy is a thing with him, too.  
-enjoys disposing his relatives, lying, murdering all of his enemies, and also drinking tea at midnight.  
-he has a jet black cape he likes to wear a lot that can mold into several different forms, can harden to act as a shield, and is kind of like a TARDIS because if he wraps it around himself (generally with an overdramatic flair- it runs in the family, apparently), he can teleport to the location he desires.  
-his ultimate goal? ~~enslave the universe~~ rule at least several universes, because they need a knowledgeable ruler who knows how to “protect” them from other galaxies (by starting wars with them :D)  
-his catchphrase is “who’s she?” generally used when people are asking them where the FUCK THEIR MISSING LOVED ONES ARE  
-can do alchemy because i just finished watching fullmetal alchemist  
-can transform into a snek  
-unlike Roman, he does not possess butterfly wings. Instead, he was cursed with beautiful peacock wings. He does, however, have Roman’s halo crown of light, which he considers a sign of superiority.  
-i hate him and so does everyone else.  
-he is the one hunting down Cal and the crew, trying to bring them to his castle so he can, uh… “interrogate” them…  
-Draven possess a mythical artifact. Nobody knows what it is or what it does. All that’s known is that. late at night, the sky around the royal palace is painted crimson red, almost as if space itself was bleeding…


	3. The Unwanted One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey look actual writing with my lovely little Calrex
> 
> TW: violence, blood, bullying, general assholes being assholes, ANGSTTTT

On good days, they loved stars for their beautiful brilliance, coloring an otherwise dark void with the tiniest bit of light, the tiniest bit of hope. On bad days, they loved stars because they could study the constellations dotting the sky instead of the bruises dotting their skin. They could see Calypso, the Lia and the Jahde, even the Requiem, all dancing across a purple and navy sky. They would whisper their stories, the ones they remembered their parents telling them. They remembered little else.

Today happened to a bad day. The little bastard Drisine, Cato, had given them a bloody nose and a bit more than an aching bruise or two. Their head pounded as they curled up in their hideaway, rocking back and forth as they desperately whispered the myth of Calypso and her army, their voice breaking as they turned the wrong way and was faced with excruciating pain. They bit their lip harshly, knowing a whimper could alert the other children, who were certainly prowling about nearby, to their location. So silent came their tears.

It was Cato’s fault, but the Headmx blamed them. Ze had called out the names of the children who would finally leave the wretched place- the ones who were wanted. Zir eyes had landed on them, the only child to stay more than three years, so full of pity, and called their name, saying, “It’s alright. Someone will want you eventually.” Their heart, so broken already from failed attempts to make someone love them, had shattered at that simple phrase. And, of course, Cato had just had to make it worse.

“No-one could ever want you!” he taunted, dancing around them with his friends as soon as the Headmx had left. “How could they want someone as normal as you, when they could have someone like me?” To emphasize his point, the Drisine transformed into a shimmering bird, his multicolored feathers brushing the floor as he hovered in midair. They bowed their head towards the floor, tears threatening to spill from their eyes. Cato has grabbed their chin in an effort to make them look at him, having turned back into his usual form.

But in that moment, their eyes saw death, and they panicked. With a terrified screech, they leaped away from the shapeshifter into the body behind them, sending both tumbling to the ground. Another young Drisine was beneath them, his bright blue eyes alight with worry, as if he had simply been caught into the unfolding tension. He squirmed beneath their weight as they rolled off of the child, clutching their wrist, which was twisted painfully in a direction that definitely was not anatomically correct. Cato let out a harsh, jarring laugh as he watched on.

“Who would ever want you?” he asked again. “No-one. You’re never going to be loved, never going to be wanted, never going to know friendship. You should throw yourself into space, and stop wasting our oxygen, you worthless orphan” he hissed as he stalked towards them, his eyes narrowing into slits. In the blink of an eye, Cato was a huge, looming, scaled beast. They froze, and in their eyes, they saw a reality of another universe.

A bigger scaled beast stood before them, swaying back and forth as it slid closer to them. It spoke, though they heard no words emitted from its fanged mouth. The beast stared them down, almost as if gazing into their soul. Without warning, it pulled back, prepared to strike them. It lunged forward, and-

-And suddenly they were back to their body, their reality. The scaled beast stood before them, and without thinking, they leapt at the deadly creature with a blood-curdling screech as their fists began flying, pummeling the beast, who slowly morphed back into Cato. He was crying, screaming at them to get off him and to stop hitting him, but they couldn’t. Their fists were acting of their accord, only trying to make sure that deadly beast that wanted something from them would never strike them. Something wet dripped down their face and they realized they were crying, too. From there it was all a blur. They vaguely recognized the sound of the Headmx’s nasal voice, someone tugging them off of Cato, and being thrown into solitary.

Its dark and cramped quarters painted a feeling of misery in their mind. They hated solitary. Albeit, it was the only place they were truly safe, where they could curl up in a ball and scream until their lungs gave out, it was lonely. At least in the Commons, they could feel the gazes of the others. They could feel their touches, feel their attention. In solitary, they craved it. In solitary, they went half insane, almost unable to fit their fist inside their mouth to keep from screaming loud enough to shatter the stars. In solitary, they knew just how lonely they really were.

When they were let out, they found Cato and two of his friends waiting for them. They were quick, one holding them, one keeping them silent, and Cato having the honor of punishing them. Silent as they were, their eyes held all of the screams they could not voice, all of the anger and fear and confusion and longing for someone to tell them why they kept having these visions.

The entire time, Cato kept calling them the “Unwanted One.”

He punched them hard enough for them to cough up blood, their eyes watering at the immense pain. He laughed out of the corner of his mouth because cackling like he normally did was not only too painful at the state they put him in, but the Headmx would hear him. He yanked their chin up to peer into their eyes.

“Tell me, how could anyone want you? You can’t even hold your own in a fight,” he teased.

Biting the hand of the one who covered their mouth, they were able to spit out, “Funny, because they same could be said of you earlier,” before Cato’s eyes filled with anger and he whacked his arm across their face so hard they saw stars. They felt cold blood run from their nose, spilling across their lips and onto the floor. Cato judged them worthy of mercy and motioning to his partners in crime to let them go. They fell limp to the ground, barely catching themselves before Cato yanked them back up by the hem of their white tunic, now stained by their unsightly blood.

Burning inside them was fear, pain, anger- and something foreign, yet familiar all the same. Their mouth began to move, began to form words which became sentences which became verses which became truth. They muttered the myth of Calypso as Cato continued to bludgeon them with his fists, blind to their tears and their fragileness.

“ _And the holy woman breathed fire upon the land, ravaging the fallen with the purity of her soul. She screamed, ‘Begone, wretched creature of darkness! Leave the goodness of this world, retire to your universe and be content to rule over those who have strayed._ ’” A punch landed on their hip. “ _The beast, which stood as tall as the heavens themselves, only laughed. Its voice shook the very ground, and all but Calypso fell._ ” Their stomach. “ _She alone stood fast against the mighty but terrible creature before her, and she alone had the strength to stop it._ ” The right of their jaw. “ _From the depths of her heart she brought out a strange, glittering stone. The monster tilted its head, its eyes locking on the mineral._ ” The left of their head. “‘ _Is this what you seek, traveler of the corrupted worlds?’ she asked. The beast hissed, transforming into a creature familiar to the valiant warriors. It slid closer, speaking from its mind to all those concerned._ ” Cato’s knee landed in their vital region. “‘ _Give me the Stone, darling, and you can end this. You can save your people, your friends, and yourself. Wouldn’t you like to play hero?’ It said._ ” His knee landed in their bruised stomach, and they spit out blood again. “ _The silver eyes of the goddess-woman lit up in anger. ‘The only true way to save the ones I love is by protecting the Gazer Stone.’ The creature snarled, whipping its tail towards nearby bystanders. In an instant, they fell to the ground, to rise back up no longer. Calypso shrieked as the beast turned its gaze back towards her. Swallowing, she made her decision and asked, ‘You want this?’ The creature nodded, sliding ever so closer._ ” Cato’s fist struck their head once more, and all at once, their world began to go black.

“‘ _Then come and get it._ ’”

When they had woken, they hid here, tending to their physical wounds, hoping their emotional ones wouldn’t hurt as much tomorrow. Looking at the stars, they prayed for the first time in their life. They prayed they would remember their ever elusive memories of the past. They prayed that tomorrow, perhaps they wouldn’t have to talk to Cato or his stupid friends. They prayed that the stars would take them away from this awful place, heal them, and make them someone worthy of life, worthy of love. Most of all, they prayed that someone would want them.

_Someone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I wanted to write something with the Sides, Cal’s past/origin is SUPER important to the overall story I’m slowly flushing out to its glory. So is the myth of Calypso ;)


	4. The Runaways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *offers angst*
> 
> TW: ANGST, graphic depiction of people burning to death (yep told you angst), panic attacks, death, lots of bad shtuff

The prince stood dumbfounded behind a pillar in an extravagant throne room. Normally, he would have admired the beautiful carvings decorating the ceiling, or the elegant tapestries hanging between stained glass windows depicting scenes from his family’s famous history, but instead he was focusing on the man in the center of the room.

He was dressed in a manner similar to the prince; he wore black breeches, silver threads winding around them like chains, and a dark maroon shirt with yellow hems. He also wore his black trademark cape, its jeweled collar wrapping around his neck like hands, and a metal crown made of little silver fibres. He was clad in boots that reached his knees, their yellow buckles glittering in the sunlight. His face seemed human enough, save for the greenish-yellow scales climbing up the left side of his face, the eye of that side a vibrant yellow covered by a pinkish eyelid. The prince didn’t even need to look at the man’s most distinguishable features to know who he was immediately: his uncle, Duke Draven Cecil Dolos of Caravelle.

The prince’s breathing hitched as he listened to his uncle’s poisonous words, to his smooth voice, a pit of dread growing in his stomach. “What crimes are accusing my family of, exactly?” his father was saying coolly. From his vantage point, the young gentleman noticed his mother’s hand clasp his father’s squeezing it tight.

“Whatever the people will believe, dear brother. The resentment lies in their hearts for a _reason_. Let’s see just how quickly your beloved subjects will turn on their king once they realize he’s not the hero he claims to be,” the Duke replied, his cold voice slithering into the prince’s heart and gripping it in a vice. His heart palpitated faster as he strained to hear his father’s response. To say he was scared was an understatement- he had snuck into the room in the first place because he knew there were no guards to catch him. But now, it also meant that there would be no guards to protect his parents. And he would have to be either stupid or really creative to think _he_ could somehow protect them in a million galaxies.  


“Brother, where is your son?” the Duke asked suddenly, taking a step ever so closer. The threat behind it did not go unnoticed. “I would love to see my darling nephew once more.” The prince began backing away from his hiding spot, fighting the bile rising in his throat, to the secret door he’d come through, hidden behind a red and gold tapestry, where his woven ancestor battled a scaled beast, the legendary war of Calypso and her army.  


“Do what you will with me, Draven, but leave my wife and son alone!” he could hear his father saying. He heard a deafening roar echo across the throne room and knew his father has transformed into a majestic lion, double the size of the wild creature. As he opened the door to the passageway and slipped inside, he heard the screech of his mother’s phoenix form and this hiss of his uncle morphing into a snake.  


He shut the door behind him and ran. While he was confident in the abilities of his mother and father, he had heard rumors from his daily gossip sessions with palace maids that his uncle had had a mysterious surge in power, and now even his strongest of enemies steered clear of him.  


The prince tripped something, likely a pebble, and was sent sprawling onto the dusty ground. He grunted but stood again, brushing what he wanted to believe was just dust off of his uniform, and picked up pace again. He knew these corridors and catacombs of the castle better than anyone- except maybe those who built them, and maybe also his father and uncle, who’d grown up in the palace, and then maybe also every relative of his who lived here- and turned right suddenly, knowing it lead directly to his room.  


He burst into his room, startling the person inside.  


“Gee maneni, Roman, you look like you’ve seen a ghost! …Wait, don’t tell me you’ve actually seen one, because then we should call Father Shane! I’ll-”  
“

Patton!” the prince cried, stepping further into the light, sealing the passageway behind him. His friend froze where he was, finally seeing the look of panic on his face, “Gather all our essentials. We have to leave. Immediately.” The young man in front of him opened his mouth as if to ask why, but decided against it and helped the prince begin to collect their personal effects.  


Patton grabbed a case big enough to carry several large tomes and reached for their fairytale collection on the nearby bookshelf. Though touched that Patton knew how special these books were to him, the prince put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, stopping him, saying, “It’s alright, Patton. I know all of them by heart anyways, so it would be a waste of space to even try to pack them all.” Patton’s shoulders drooped, but he quickly turned his body to collect clothing. In his case, he threw a couple tunics, enough to last the both of them a week or so, and six pairs of neutral-colored breeches. He threw in a cape or two as well, and after a moment of thought, added a crown to the pile.  


Meanwhile, his friend filled his own case with weapons, books, pillows, and any other material items they would need for involuntary exile as he recounted the exchange between his parents and his uncle. “I think- I think my uncle wants to kill us,” he breathed, swallowing the lump in his throat. He threw on a dark crimson cape over himself. Without warning, Patton tackled the soon-to-be-banished-prince and hugged him tightly, running his hands through the young man’s blond hair. “P-patton?!” the prince squeaked. “We don’t have time for this!”  


“There’s always time for friendship,” the Drisine replied simply before releasing his captive. The prince grumbled as he tied up his sack, Patton echoing his actions.  


All time froze when someone knocked on the door.  


“Prince Roman?” a slightly panicked voice called from the other side. “It’s Sir Dominic. Your parents have requested your presence. May… may I open the door?”  


Thinking quickly after a brief moment of pure terror, the prince replied, “In a minute! I, um… I’m not dressed yet! A prince cannot be seen by others in anything but his best!” A mumbled response was heard. “Oh, thank Calypso,” he whispered, turning to his best friend. “Patton, take the bags and get out of here. I’m not letting you get hurt.”  


“WHAT?!” Patton aggressively whisper-yelled. “Roman, I’m not about to leave you-”  


“Patton, I’m not asking you,” the prince said sadly. “I’m ordering you as your prince to get out of here. Go somewhere Draven can’t hurt you.  


“…Please.” His voice cracked as a tear slipped out of his eye. Patton’s shoulders tensed as he bit his lip, evidently about to argue some more. The prince stepped forward and crushed his friend into his body, wrapping his arms around Patton’s back, which was beginning to shake. “Go,” he whispered, pushing his best friend away. “For my sake.”  


Patton closed his eyes and finally nodding, taking a bag in each hand. He opened up the passage the prince had come out of just as Sir Dominic knocked on his door again. With a silent wave, the prince bid his friend farewell as the Drisine slid the secret door close.  


With a flamboyant swing, he threw the door open to nearly choke on his breath. There stood Sir Dominic, hands in the air, a knife pressed flush against the pale skin of his neck by none other than his obnoxious cousin, Cypher. Though he wanted to roll his eyes at the sight of his precocious relative, he understood Sir Dominic’s life was currently threatened. And if he made any wrong move, it would be the knight who would pay.  


“Hello, dear Ro-ro,” his cousin cooed meanly. He resisted the urge to punch the daylights out of them. “Do you want to play a game?” they asked, pressing the knife ever so harder on the knight’s neck. He saw a tiny trail on blood.  


“Not particularly, but as it happens to be afternoon, I don’t hate myself, so it would be quite fine if we were to play a game,” he replied, pulling out his more charming persona the palace staff and his relatives were used to. His cousin bared their teeth in what he assumed was supposed to be a smile.  


They dropped their knife, letting Sir Dominic collapse of the floor, crawling away from the psychotic knife-wielder. They stepped closer to their princely cousin, smiling wider, showing off their sharp canines could that probably bite through bone. Not that he would want to know. “I’m going to count to three. Between the time I say one and the time I say three, you’re going to run, and we’re going to play hide-and-seek. Okay?” the cousin wheedled in their high-pitched voice of annoyance. He nodded, gulping slightly. “One…” Roman took off running, heading wherever his feet planned to take him. “Twoooo…” he heard the patter of footsteps behind him and knew he would have to hide fast if he wanted to make it out unscathed.  


Not realizing where he was in the palace, he flung open a door to see his parents, wide-eyed and terrified, on the floor tied to one another. He was about to call out to his parents, to rush over to them and untie them, finally show he was worthy of inheriting his title, when a dreaded figure stepped from the shadows on the side, morphing into his uncle. “ _Three_ ,” he said, a forked tongue poking out as his lips curled into a vicious smile. A sharp pain erupted from the base of his skull as he cried out, his eyes closing as his body slumped forward to the gilded floors, hearing the cruel laughter of the Duke before the world went black, not knowing if his eyes would ever open to see it again.

 

He woke in a dark room, shivering beneath the tattered rags he found himself to be wearing. He coughed softly, blinking hard as he regained his still clouded vision. The sun shone harshly through the barred window, forcing him to squint to just barely make out his bearings. The prisoner sniffed the air, detecting a trace of smoke filling up the air, growing stronger by the second. He shot up in his dirty mattress, eyes widening.  


“H-hey!” he called, hoping a guard might hear him. “W-why is there smoke? Is this place on fire or something?” he asked as he leaned against the barred door, half-believing if he pressed hard enough, he could slip through and escape and rescue his mother and father. From the depths of the soundless shadows sprung a weary guard, his face unkind and testament to life’s hard-won virtues that slipped away like grains of sand in the palm of your hand.  


“The only fire is the one outside, made to burn the royal family.” At this, the prisoner fell silent, just about ready to faint. _Since when did people want to burn us? How… how long have I been asleep?_ “You’re coming with me, your Highness,” the guard said in an overly dramatic, sarcastic manner as he unlocked the door and swung it open. The prisoner nearly fell to his knees, white with shock, as it dawned on him that he was being led to his death.  


“Oh, sweet Calypso,” he whispered as the guard grabbed him quite roughly and yanked him out of his cell. The prisoner stumbled, grabbing the guard by accident to keep him from falling; he released him after the old man sent him a nasty glare, mumbling an obscenity.  


The pair walked down a long, winding hallway made of cold-hearted stone, lit by but a few torches every couple of feet. While he had been down in this part of the palace before, it still seemed unfamiliar and foreign to him. The cells they passed by were empty for the most part, something he was grateful for. He didn’t think he would be able to stand dozens of tired gazes following his gait as he walked by. He shook his head, forcing the thought out of his mind.  


As they walked on, the walls around them brightened, indicating that wherever they were going, it would likely be outside. But as the light grew, so did the noise. At first it was just a buzz in the back of his mind, but as they grew closer to the source of the light, he realized it was individuals voices shouted individuals words, screaming and cheering at the top of their lungs. _Are they at a sports festival?_ he wondered halfheartedly. Belatedly, his brain used its logic to realize, no, the people he was hearing were not at a sports festival, or any sort of festivities, for that matter.  


No, they were there to watch him _burn._  


He stumbled again, but caught himself as the guard yanked him hard. All of a sudden he was thrust into blinding sunlight.  


On another other day, it would have been beautiful. There was not a cloud in the lavender-colored sky, and one could hear the songs of birds and other woodland creatures. People crowded about in stands filled to the brim, practically bursting with ecstasy. It left him dumbfounded, how his own subjects could be filled with such hate that they would want to see their own rulers burned at the stake.  


And then he saw them.  


His parents were tied back-to-back, as they had been in the throne room, erect against a stake the color of mahogany. Below them, someone had built a huge pile of logs and sticks, as if preparing a bonfire for cooking food. Only, his parents were the only ones that were to be cooked today.  


Forgetting the guard still pulling him along, deaf to the roar that emanated from the crowd at his appearance, blind to the figure just behind the stake meandering towards him, he fell to his knees and let out a pained cry. “Mama! Papa!” At the sound of his voice, his parents strained their heads to catch a glimpse of him. Unbeknownst to him, tears were already flowing down his face. Memories flooded his head, memories of a life that would soon be cut short.  


He couldn’t save his parents. Who was he kidding, thinking he would somehow rescue them? He couldn’t save anyone. He couldn’t even transform like everyone else!  


“Ladies and gentleman!” a voice rang out, quieting the crowd His uncle stepped forward, smirking like the villain he was, which earned rapturous applause from the frenzied crowd. “These tyrants have oppressed you, let you live in squalor while they dine on the lives of your loved ones!” A cheer went up from the audience, screeches and claps among the noise. “Today, my friends,” he said, “they _burn_!” The crowd screamed joyfully like animals in a cage, rowdy and frantic and half-insane. With a flourish, his uncle produced a flaming torch, its orange fire licking the air and burning it.  
With an overwhelming sickness in his stomach, he realized something that made his blood run cold: he would watch his parents burn alive. Only then might he be granted death.  


“No- no!” he screamed, desperately trying to wrangle himself from the iron grip of the old guard, to no avail. “No, no, no! Don’t hurt them! Please!” His throat was getting raw, his vision blurred by his tears. “PLEASE! Draven, don’t do this! Please, please, don’t… don’t hurt them,” he sobbed, unable to watch.  


He heard the sound of flames crackling and knew the bonfire had been lit. It was only when the screams began that his snapped up to see a sight that would haunt him for the rest of his life. His mother’s bliaut was the first thing to catch fires, her once gorgeous but now tattered purple robes quickly going up in smoke and flames, sparks catching higher and higher up her body. Her shrieks could be heard over the rampage of the crowd, drilling into his ears as he tried not to vomit.  


His father was trying not to scream, he could tell, as the fire began to eat away at his legs. His heart leapt out of his chest as he finally lost against his stomach and emptied his stomach of the grass beneath him. His breath came in short, jagged gaps. He was having a panic attack, curling in on himself, unable to be strong for his parents one final time.  


“Mama… Papa…” he croaked out, his face streaked with tears and his hands and knees covered in dirt. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… Please… please forgive me,” he cried as the screams grew louder and more pained. “Please forgive me…”

He couldn’t watch the rest. His eyes burned with tears, his ears forevermore repeating the sound of their screams, over and over, his mind slowly becoming blank as he stared as the still smoking skeletons of the people who were once his loving parents, benevolent rulers who were always willing to put the lives of their people before their own. And now look where it landed them.  


He vaguely felt the pull of the guard, tugging him to his feet. He was unsteady, stumbling, his head rolling around until the guard finally rolled his eyes and grabbed him from behind, holding him upright.  


He was barely aware as he was lead to the final grave of his parents, barely aware as he was tied to the very same, very charred, stake his father had burned on. Choking on the remaining sanity he had, he noticed his father’s charred body still wore his crown.  


“Any last words, darling nephew?” he heard his uncle ask him. With what remained of his mind, he gathered up his last sliver of courage.  


“I will destroy you. I will make sure you fall, and avenge my parents’ death, mark my words.” The Duke merely rolled his eyes, whipping out another flaming torch. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the scent of burning flesh and the intense heat of deadly fire.  


He braced himself, but nothing came. Instead he heard the sound of a spaceship approaching, and opened his eyes to see an awed crowd fixated on a glowing blue and red cargo ship. His breath caught in his throat; even Draven had dropped the torch in shock. Finally allowing the smallest bit of hope, he began to silently beat against his restraints, loosening them enough to wriggle his limbs out of the confining rope.  


The ramp on the bottom opened, and a ladder fell out, a figure clinging to it. He squinted and saw a dear friend, making his heart beat even faster than it had before. _He might make it out alive. He might it out alive, with Patton by his side._ In a flash of light, the Drisine morphed into a huge, scaled, flying creature. The creature opened its jaws and let out a burst of flame, scaring the crowd, causing him to cringe and feel his chest tighten painfully. It flew down, swooping around the crime scene, not wasting a moment as it grasped him in its claws, ripping him from the stake. The animal neared the ladder and morphed back, Patton clutching his best friend’s hand as he grabbed the ladder swinging in midair.  


By now, the usurper and murderer had regained control, ordering his obedient puppets to begin firing at the runaways. But the duo were already inside the cargo ship, gearing up for a hasty retreat. Though he had had no idea Patton could man a spaceship of this size and class, he was thankful as he collapsed on the floor, Patton speeding away as bullets ricocheted off of the metal hull.  


He was safe, for now. But he knew he could never return home, unless he wanted a… _warm welcome_ , to say the least. And he would never find a new home, either. Draven wanted him dead, not gone. He could run away as much as he wanted to, but eventually his uncle would catch up.  


He only hoped that he would be ready to fight when that time came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...totally didn't cry while writing this...
> 
> anywho, thank you all _so_ much for commenting and liking the story! I really appreciate it  <33333


	5. Illogical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> L.O.G.I.C. finally decides to fix the "glitches" in his system. But, of course, plot lines would like to have a say in that.

L.O.G.I.C was used to wandering around. A year ago, his home- and creator- burned to the ground as he wasted away time at the local Scholar’s Guild. Did he blame himself for not being with the one who built him in their final moments? …Not particularly. It was illogical, he told himself, to mourn when he had not directly impacted the circumstances that had led to their death; yet, thinking about them always led to some sort of pang where he assumed his heart would be if he had one.  


The AI was currently meandering throughout town, taking notes and drawing what he saw as he walked slowly down the cobblestone streets. The suns burned orange and red in the late summer sky, crystals hanging tree branches as they glittered, casting multi-colored reflections on the robot. He sat on a nearby, sketching the enchanting vegetation in his new learbound journal, which the market woman claimed to be from Noira. He admired people hurrying to and fro, their destinations unknown to him. Laughing couples stopped to look in shop windows, clutching one another’s hands as a sign of affection, little children begged their mothers for sweets, and animals danced about in the sky, trees, and streets as nature did as it did.  


As the brilliant sun began setting upon the little town, the robot went back to his current home- the Guild. There, the clerk welcomed him with a bright smile. “Oh, L.O.G.I.C, you’re back! I left you a couple new tomes in your room for you to catalog tomorrow morning,” she said cheerfully. He watched her put on her beige trench coat and grey flat cap, stuffing her hair underneath, and leave, waving goodbye to him. He nodded politely as the door shut close. He would be alone for the next twelve hours or so.  


He turned on his heel and headed into the back of the Guild’s expansive library. Before him stood two imposing doors painstakingly painted with a beautiful mural. The robot had studied every detail of the mural, quite literally saving it to his memory. A young woman clad in a haunting white dress reached a hand towards a beast of black ash, its yellow eyes beginning to fade. Behind the painted woman were four others: a scrawny figure surrounded by a purple aura, a centaur surrounded by sky blue, a prince (judging by the overly extravagant, stupid crown on his head) surrounded by red, and tall figure surrounded by dark blue. The auras of the four followers always seemed to dance late at night, when torchlight was low and L.O.G.I.C’s battery began to run out of power, forcing his vision’s clarity to diminish to save power.  


Pushing past the doors and their mythical mural, the robot made his way into the small dorms the Guild kept for any travelers or late-working clerks. He opened the door to his room, and was met with the inviting smell of home, whatever that meant now. It smelled like parchment and jam and electricity, which shouldn’t even have been a smell, but to him it just felt like the right way to describe the small little room.  


Papers were organized in neat little piles on a wooden desk, and inkwells of three different colors- red, blue, and black- decorated the edge pushed against the grey-walled corner. The opposite corner held in perfectly made bed covered with navy blue sheets. In the final occupied corner, L.O.G.I.C had managed to acquire a bookshelf for his numerous journals and books. They lined the shelves in neatly arranged rows, organized in the precise manner he was known for.  


He went through his nightly routine, digging his portable charger out from under his bed where he had stashed it that morning. Though sleep wasn’t technically necessary for him, it still felt nice to feel human sometimes. Even if he had to keep telling himself these so-called “feelings” were illogical and just glitches in his software. He yanked the covers up quite aggressively after that last thought, before much more calmly turning the brightness of the micro-lights in his eyes and slipping beneath the bed sheets, plugging the charger into the back of his head.  
In order to conserve battery life and to help while away the hours, he sent himself into Sleep Mode.

  


L.O.G.I.C. woke in the middle of the night at a tiny bell ringing in his ears. _Charging completed_ , the little voice told him. He groaned, not wanting to be awake just yet. He pulled the covers off of himself, swinging his heavy legs over the frame of the bed. It was no use going back to Sleep Mode, there was no need for it; besides, the earlier he got up, the more things he would be able to accomplish in the day.  


He began by cataloging the books the redhead clerk had told him about last night, but soon finished his task, and idled about, unsure what to do now. Pausing a moment to think about what he now wanted to do, L.O.G.I.C. went back to his room to grab his newest journal and a few ink pens, as well as a few reference books he might need, which he put into a small satchel that hung by his side. He also pulled a navy cloak over him. He had heard the subtle patter of raindrops a few minutes ago, and rainwater might destroy his systems.  


He figured he had free time now, might as well do what he had been planned for months now- that is, to fix himself. The robot wanted to finally fix the sole mistake his creator had ever made. Finally fix the weird glitches he kept experienced, the odd longings he shouldn’t have, the last night existentialism he hoped was just an error.  


Quietly, the robot slipped out the front door with his satchel and headed for the edge of town, where an expansive, pristinely white complex of buildings surrounded by black chain-link fences sprung up from what was once swampland. It was known colloquially as the Lab, though its official title was “The Institution for Scientific and Technological Advancement (and Center for Engineering)”. But that was a mouthful- even the robot with perfect speech and linguistic ability agreed.  


It was a short walk to the Lab, though it wouldn’t have taken as long if L.O.G.I.C. hadn’t stopped to marvel at the moon, watching over him at its zenith, and the twinkling stars that circled the heavens. From here, he could see the constellations everyone knew by heart. But he had a mission, and he’d rather complete it in the dark hours of the morning than in the middle of the afternoon, when there would surely be others who required more assistance than him.  


It was hardly a problem for the AI to get around the lackluster security, and quickly made his way into the complex. He’d only been there once before, but it was no deal to pull up the building’s blueprints behind his eyes. Without another moment of hesitation, the robot hurried to the technological wings of the complex, ready to finally be normal.

  


_Who knew the Lab would have such advanced programming?_ L.O.G.I.C thought to himself as the computer’s screen once again displayed an error screen. He was absolutely stumped. Surely, the passcode to break firewall the programmers had set up was something simple. It had to be around somewhere.  


A sudden, rather loud crash echoed from the other side of the room. The robot froze, the little microphones in his ears picking up the faint sound of two people bickering with one another. He couldn’t make out words just yet, but as they grew closer, he make out phrases and individual words.  


“… _wrong way, Roman_ ,” one was saying.  


“… _never get lost_ …” was the reply he heard. Slowly but surely, the two people appeared in his line of sight. He crouched behind the desk he was standing at, using its bulky figure to hide himself from the intruders. The cameras that allowed him to see narrowed in on the two figures. They were tall, though the one with an… extravagant (stupid) crown on his head (were those _flowers?_ ) was noticeably shorter, likely only as tall as he was because of the heeled boots he was wearing, the buckles flapping about, certainly not being used the way they were supposed to be used. The other was quite striking, to say the least; graceful antlers decked the sides of head, at least a foot in length, and were translucent, lavender and pastel pink and soft blue colors flowing throughout them like an old invention L.O.G.I.C. had read about called a lava lamp.  


Perhaps they were employees, though the way the one called Roman looked about the quiet place, it was doubtful. They were most likely trespassing. Which, his brain reminded him, he was doing, too. In a moment of absolute stupidity- to this day, he claims it was glitch in the system- L.O.G.I.C. stood up, startling the two trespassers. The one named Roman let out a high-pitched shriek, throwing his hands up in front of his face, while his companion jumped several feet in the air, letting out a low scream that sounded something along the lines “SPIDERS!” Once they saw the robot, however, the two seemed to calm down some.  


The prince character stepped forward first, hands on his hips. Analyzing his posture, the systems within his head told him that, though he was exerting extraordinary confidence, his eyes wavered, scanning the room, and he was biting his lip, implying he was harboring some sort of self-confidence issues. With a dramatic flourish of his gloved hand, the boy asked, “And what are you doing here, peasant?” The friend lightly swatted the boy’s arm.  


“ _Roman, that’s not how we should introduce ourselves_!” he whispered.  


“ _Well, that’s how every other ruler I’ve known introduces himself, I’m just following the examples I’m been taught my entire life!_ ” the prince whispered back. Coughing loudly, he turned back to the robot. “Yes, where was I? Ah, yes! Why are you here?”  


The AI rolled his eyes, feeling something described as annoyance flutter through him, though feelings can’t exactly flutter through wires and metal and coding. “The very same could be asked of you two,” he replied, gesturing to the two trespassers. Before either could respond, he held up a finger to silence them and added, “But to answer your question, I am here to reprogram myself. I have experienced several glitches that impede my function.” The antlered man tilted his head, opening his mouth to say something before an alarm went off, flashing red in the otherwise dark room. The prince boy shrieked again, clinging terrified to his companion. Whispered words flew between them; L.O.G.I.C. lowered the volume of the microphones in his ears to be polite.  


“How exactly did you two get in here?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.  


“Um.. well… we sort of just… smashed the lock and ran… Were we not supposed to do that?” the antlered one asked, his pale face flushing. The AI nodded briskly, heaving a long sigh. Without warning, he grabbed the arms of the two men and yanked them as he began running out of the lab, shoving open the door to burst into a long monochromatic hallway. He could hears noises of surprise and confusion from the two men as he pulled them along. Soon enough, he stopped before a pair of steel doors.  


“Hmm… now to just figure out the code…” he mused aloud.  


“Oh, I can take care of that!” he heard from behind him, turning around in time to see the antlered man transform into a humongous creature covered in grey, leathery skin. From the front of its head grew a single, long horn that could easily puncture a being’s body. The creature drew back and charged full force at the door as L.O.G.I.C. stepped back, curiously observing the strange creature. The doors flew off their hinges, slightly crumpled at the site of the impact. With ease, the creature turned back into the man he had been before as L.O.G.I.C. watched on curiously. A shapeshifter, then. This man had just changed his own mass; he must have been from one of the magic-harnessing galaxies.  


“Why are you helping us?” the prince one- Roman, his brain reminded him, said suspiciously.  


“Though I would like to get rid of my issue as soon as possible, it seems tonight is not the proper time. If you were caught, then I would also be at risk. I cannot allow myself to be shut down before I get rid of these godforsaken errors,” he explained quickly, ushering the young men towards the chain-link fence, keeping low to avoid cameras. Something shiny, something reflective, caught his eyes and he turned. His jaw dropped at the sight of a spaceship just sitting in the field the Lab was built upon, all of its lights turned on. Forget smashing locks, it was the very _obvious_ spaceship that probably caused the alarm to be sounded.  


“Is that your spaceship? It seems like a Sanders model, class Yersinia. Those are normally quite expensive to get, however did you get a hold of one?” he rambled.  


“Of course it’s our spaceship, a prince will only accept the best of the best, whatever the creators have put their effort and love into. And, uh… it was my family’s,” the young man with the unnecessary crown said, his voice cracking at the end. The AI made a mental note. He steered the men towards their spaceship, beginning to formulate a plan to get back into the complex, disable the alarm system in case the fools came back, and finally reprogram himself. He had gone through this much trouble already, it was logical to complete what he had set out to do.  


But, of course, he plans were foiled as soon as he got to the ramp of the spaceship. He intended to wave goodbye, perhaps show a little politeness, before heading back into the Lab; the antlered man had different plans, apparently.  


He grabbed the AI by his metal arm and begun dragging him into the Bay of the ship.  


“W-what are you doing?” he stuttered, flustered at being touched without initiating it. The man only smiled cheerfully at him, and L.O.G.I.C. felt his resolve begin to weaken.  


“You’re coming with us, of course!” he said without hesitation. “Oh, I just _knew_ that soothsayer was right! She said we’d find a robot under a moon who was meant to travel with us! (She also said that there was a fourth one we’re supposed to find before Calypso’s blood something or other leads us into victorious battle, but there’s always a chance she was crazy…) ANYWAYS!” The robot jumped at the shout, momentarily distracted from his attempts to free himself from the iron grip of the shapeshifter. “You’re coming with us! No ifs, ands, or buts!”  


From the depths of the complex, small figures clad in black emerged, toting rather large, deadly-looking guns. The robot alerted the two men to the newcomers. “Well, Patton, drag him in! I don’t think he’s coming with us willingly, and I don’t think those guys with the big shootys appreciate us very much. _Tch_. Nobody appreciates my presence anymore!” The one called Roman went on a rant about being underappreciated, how he was just as a good a ruler as anybody else, as he headed into the ship, swallowed by the ship’s blinking lights. The man currently gripping his arm in a vice- Patton- smiled sweetly.  


“Could you please allow me to bring you onto this ship? I don’t want to be kidnapping you or anything, though it would technically be called _bot_ napping. Y’know, because you’re a robot, and all…” Patton giggled at his joke, and L.O.G.I.C’s resolve weakened even further. “Please?” he pleaded, pouting slightly in a manner similar to those of the town children begging their parents for sweets or toys.  


Part of him knew it was illogical to follow these odd travelers and dive headfirst into their tomfoolery. He should stay here, do what he’d been meaning to do for a long, and continue helping out at the Guild. But part of him- the side full of errors, he told himself- yearned to follow these fools and join them in what he was sure to be an adventure. Part of him didn’t want to rid his systems of these strange glitches. Part of him knew it wasn’t like he was leaving much behind. The Guild could always find someone to replace him. Perhaps he might find a better, more efficient way to reprogram himself. 

And, besides, it not like he wasn’t falling victim to the soft baby blue eyes of the shapeshifter, silently wheedling away at his resolve.  


“…Alright, fine,” he rapidly conceded before he could think about having regrets or second thoughts. The one called Patton squealed happily, which was endearing to the otherwise emotionless robot, and dragged him into the spaceship as the people in black began firing at them. “Stupid emotions,” the robot muttered under his breath before the ramp closed before his eyes, and he found himself in the Bay of the ship. Several hallways split off from the one he was in now. Patton immediately began dragging him down one of them, stopping in front of a door, where he waved his hand in front of a sensor. 

The door opened seamlessly, revealing the pilot’s seat and control panel.  


“I hope you don’t get spacesick,” Patton said as he slid into the seat, waving his hands exaggeratedly over the controls that came to life in vibrant colors. Patton, probably experienced in flying away from less-than-optimal situations, pressed a button, and a holographic steering wheel appeared. “Hold on to something, okay, kiddo?” L.O.G.I.C. complied immediately, not wanting to damage his internal systems.  


Without warning, Patton gunned it and the ship lifted off of the ground as he heard bullets ricocheting off the exterior. L.O.G.I.C. heard a groan from outside and figured the one named Roman hadn’t grasped something during takeoff. He could see the prince (or whatever he was) doing that often and smirked as the spaceship leveled out.  


The sky expanded as they flew higher and higher. The robot felt a pang in his heart; he was sad to leave his home, but it’s not like there was anything to lose. Besides. He had a feeling that perhaps he was supposed to be with these two strangers who had just burst into the Lab less than a hour ago. He had a feeling that wherever they were headed (wait, where were they headed?), he was supposed to be with them.  


“Say, what’s your name, kiddo?” Patton was saying.  


“My creator gave the name of L.O.G.I.C. I believe your friend is Roman and you are Patton?” he said. He saw Patton nod in the reflection of the glass, smiling happily.  


“Well, that makes sense! You seem pretty logical to me!” L.O.G.I.C cracked a smile before wiping it off his face. He didn’t do emotions. He wouldn’t start now.  


“I’ve taken rather illogical actions over the course of my life, for lack of a better word. The most recent one being boarding this ship.”  


“Don’t worry, L.O.G.I.C.,” Patton replied as the AI began observing all the stars clustered across the heavens, so close it looked like he could touch them. He’d never been this close to the stars he loved. “You’re sure to do even more illogical stuff with us around!”  


Somehow, L.O.G.I.C. didn’t have a problem with that.


	6. Lonely Planet Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil was alone on a desolate, war-ravaged planet, until he meets three strange travelers who are definitely not from his planet.
> 
> TW: Panic attacks, mild language, self-deprecating thoughts, mentioned/referenced/implied death, mentioned/implied war, MORE ANGST >:D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaandddd now we're caught up with the fics I've posted on Tumblr (I cross-post everything for this story)! So all the chapters from here on out (as of May 1st) will take a little longer to upload as I complain to my friends about how hard my favorite activity is.  
> Thank you all for the lovely comments and kudos! <3333
> 
>  
> 
> (Virgil is my soft anxious baby and I will protect him at all costs)

Vae hadn’t returned for two months. Every night, he snuck up to the bell tower and would peer out from the little window where, at one point in time, townspeople from below could catch a glimpse of the now absent bell. It had likely been melted down for ammunitions.

It was a night like any other. Virgil sat, back pressed against one of the corners of the little tower, his eyelids beginning to flutter close. He shook himself awake, his hazy brown eyes refocusing on the barren wasteland dotted with ruins holding all too painful memories. Silently, he cursed his best and only friend as he rubbed sleep out of his eyes, feeling the bags underneath them that were becoming more prominent as the days went by.

He liked the midnight sky. It calmed his anxiety that Vae was likely a dead man or a deserter. Tonight, the heavens dripped neon purple and raven black as the stars blinked at him, almost mocking him. His heart was in his throat as he stood unofficial sentry, wishing his friend would come home already so he could ask her where she’d gone and what adventures- because it wasn’t Vae if it wasn’t an adventure- she’d had.

He hugged his knees close to him, zipping his hoodie up to try and keep himself warm in the chilly night. A breeze ripped through the little tower, sending Virgil’s hair flying every which way. He grumbled as he patted it down, desperate to tame it so if on the off chance Halo came upstairs after fitful sleep, she wouldn’t tease him for looking like a girl with his shoulder-length hair, the tips dyed lavender.

As he finally got his hair under control, he glanced outside and nearly choked on his breath. _Someone was standing in the distance, holding a glowing lantern._ They were still as a statue, but Virgil didn’t care. He leapt off the ground, practically throwing himself down the rickety stairs as he raced to the bottom of the bell tower. He threw open the rotting wooden door as he reached ground level, stumbling over his feet as he ran down the cobblestone streets littered with pebbles and black snow.

At ground level, it was much harder to see the figure in the distance, but through the narrow alley between to buildings that Virgil had seen collapse in on themselves with his own eyes as the families inside screamed for help, he could spy the willowy figure that stood nearly invisible against the dark horizon of the night.

His heart pounded with exhilaration as he felt his lungs beginning to sting, his throat growing scratchy and dry. Vae was back, Vae was back, Vae was back… He felt a grin spread across his face. His best friend was home. Finally, he wouldn’t be alone.

Slowing down, he bent over, panting heavily. He’d never done much exercise, despite running from himself his entire life. His eyes were brimming with tears of joy and exhaustion, blurring his vision as he looked to see his vision was so poor from the salty liquid in his eyes that he saw three figures instead of one.

He began walking, too tired to run again, wiping the tears as he called Vae’s name. Upon looking up again at the horizon, Virgil made out the outlines of three people- not one... Three.

_What? Did Vae come back with someone?_ he wondered as he approached the people, apprehension taking root in his gut. Millions of possibilities flew through his mind. _They’re refugees. They killed Vae. It’s Marco, Kay, and Farhana back from their mission. Vae met merchants or soldiers or something or_ \- his heart stopped. He could clearly see the people now.

None of them were Vae.

Thousands of emotions flooded through him, grief being the first after the searing feeling of hope being crushed and falling to the desolate, cold ground. Virgil sank to his knees, tears of despair spilling over his eyes this time around. His heart beat rapidly, ready to tear its way through his body and escape the cage of ribs inside him. _No, no, no, no, no, no, no, this couldn’t be happening? Why couldn’t he get a happy ending for once in his miserable life?_ His breath came in shallow gasps and he mentally cursed. He was having a panic attack.

His limbs trembled as another gust of wind blew, dust and other particles hitting his face harshly. He could feel his heart racing at the same pace of his thoughts, which was firmly convinced that Vae had met some terrible fate at the hands of terrible people. He let out a sob that resembled his best friend’s name, his head hitting the hard ground as he collapsed over his knees, pounding on the cruel earth that likely covered his friend in eternal sleep.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and screamed, throwing his head back to see who it was and falling back painfully on his behind. He saw a stoic man staring him down, tiny lights flickering behind his grey eyes. He wore a double-breasted suit ensemble with a dark blue and black color scheme, tiny navy pinstripes running up and down his tight trousers which were crammed into brown dress boots. A bolo tie wrapped around his neck, transparent beads decorating the aiguillettes. He held a lantern burning brightly in the middle of the night, blinding Virgil as he tried to calm himself down. In the firelight, he made out the shadowy faces of the two strangers behind him.

The first thing he noticed about the pretty-boy blonde was the flower crown he wore. Lilacs the color of a sunset, roses the color of a china doll’s dainty painted blush, and teal chrysanthemums decorated his head, slightly glowing with their respective pastel colors. His bright blue eyes observed Virgil curiously, his head slightly tilted and his lips pursed with worry. Besides the flower crown, the boy was dressed elegantly, as though he was trying to convince everyone he really was a prince of some sort. He wore a copper-colored ascot tie tucked neatly into a white mandarin collar shirt. He wore red breeches and a pair of dramatic, buckled, knee-length wedge boots the color of lavender flowers accented with gold chains, giving a bit more rounded appearance to the prince wanna-be. Over his clothing, he wore some sort of jacket trailing to his knees, splatters of gold giving the otherwise white fabric the look of an ombre. A red sash attached to a little bag was slung across his body. Virgil also spotted a dark blue necklace hiding underneath his shirt, the chain just barely visible in the night. Lighting up the air around him were soft butterfly wings glowing cotton candy pink, their tips white as icing.

The one beside him also watched with concern. His baby blue eyes, similar in color to the boy with the flower crown, narrowed as he watched Virgil gasp for breath, scared out of his mind. This one was decked with a pair of antlers that looked like crystal dripping soft pastel colors that reminded Virgil so much of his lost friend. His wispy cinnamon and dark toffee hair fell into his eyes as he pushed it back away from his face, pulling out a silver hair clip from somewhere and forcing his hair to comply. For a moment, Virgil compared him to the likes of Rin Okumura from _Blue Exorcist_ before he remembered he was not supposed to be interested in little kids’ stuff like that. Instead of beginning another inner war, he focused of the eccentric clothing of the antlered man. He wore a bright blue waistcoat patterned with lace shaped like interlocking roses, tiny silver chains keeping it wrapped around him. Underneath, he wore a plain white shirt with small brown sleeve garters. He also wore beige breeches and black knee-length boots with bright yellow buckles. Virgil noticed a pair of black-rimmed circle glasses tucked into the breast pocket of his waistcoat. 

Virgil choked out another sob, tears running down his cheeks, ruining the black eye-shadow he always wore. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision the first time he put it on. Vae had been gone for three days back then, and he was trying to repel his loneliness by finally completing the dare Vae had given him when they were just teens, laughing beside a campfire, the thought of war and destruction far in the back of their minds. Vae had returned later that week, amused at Virgil’s new look, but now that she had truly disappeared, Virgil couldn’t keep from wearing the eye-shadow beneath his eyes, as if it were the only thing that he had left to remember her by.

The antlered one moved suddenly, throwing his arms around him and squeezing tightly. Virgil shrieked, trying to push the man away from him with his gangly arms. Instead, the man hugged him tighter. He patted him on the back with gentle hands. Virgil froze, unsure what to do. Virgil felt himself begin to relax in the man’s grasp, though his pulse was still skyrocketing.

“W-what are you doing?” he managed to force out of his mouth. “Who are you all?” Much quieter, he added, “Where’s Vae?” The others seemed to notice the first two inquiries. At long last, the hugger pulled away.

He spoke in an unfamiliar language, melodic words bouncing off his tongue as he rambled phrases foreign to the scared boy. The man with steely gray eyes stepped forward, muttering to the antlered man, who glanced at Virgil and flushed.

“I apologize,” the man with cold eyes said. “My companion forgot you do not speak our tongue. You speak a language known as English, correct?” Virgil nodded, dumbfounded. “My name is L.O.G.I.C., and these are my companions, Patton-” he gestured to the antlered man, “-and Roman,” he gestured to the prince, who waved briskly. “I know this is sudden, but you must come with us.”

Virgil gaped at the three strangers. He pushed himself off the ground, unable to bare the feeling of being watched like a pathetic wimp. He mumbled incoherent words, still trying to process everything. “You’re… you guys are aliens?” he breathed, focusing on their more… supernatural body parts. L.O.G.I.C. blinked, apparently confused.

“Well, not exactly. By alien, do you mean the undocumented immigrant kind or the beings from another planet kind?”

“O-Of course the beings from another planet kind! I’d never use such a mean word to describe people who could easily be my friends!” Virgil cried defiantly. His eyes widened as his brain reminded him not to blurt anything, and his shrunk back, clutching the patch-covered sleeves of his hoodie.

L.O.G.I.C reached out a hand, but drew back. “To be more specific, Patton is a shapeshifter known as a Drisine. Roman is a being who appears with one physical aspect of another creature, and can turn into that creature. He also happens to be an exiled prince, though from experience I suggest you don’t bring that up when speaking to him.”

“W-what about you?” Virgil asked. He would be lying if he said his interest wasn’t piqued by now.

L.O.G.I.C. smiled coldly, what Virgil assumed was the only mode his smile was set to. “I am an artificial intelligence unit set inside a capsule built to resemble that of my creator.” Virgil couldn’t process it. Mere moments ago, he had believed his best friend was coming home. And now these strangers who claimed to be beings from faraway planets had asked him to come with them. It was something straight out of a movie.

“Why?” he asked suddenly, his eyes burning into the robot’s. “Why me?” His lifted his chin, mimicking the rebel teens in the propaganda movies he’d come to know by heart. “What makes me so important?” He bit his harshly, shoving his hands deep into the thralls of the hoodie’s pockets. He couldn’t seem weak. They wouldn’t want him then, no matter why they wanted him now.

L.O.G.I.C.’s eyes narrowed and Virgil steeled himself, putting up the mask he always wore. After a long, worry-filled pause, L.O.G.I.C. finally responded. “According to my fellow companions, they heard a rather cryptic prophecy that they, along with two others who fit our descriptions, will defeat an age-old evil.” The robot added on in a lower tone, “We seem to be in the same boat. These two dragged me into their ship after breaking into a lab, and I’ve been travelling with them ever since.” Virgil almost chuckled at the sight of the two smaller men dragging this no-nonsense robot onto a stereotypical UFO ship.

He shook his head, running his hand through his head. “What the hell…” he whispered, his eyes glancing across the landscape slowly brightening as time approached dawn. “Why… why me, though? Why not literally any other one of my friends holed up back in town?” he asked, jutting his thumb behind him to the ruins. “They’re the ones leading a rebellion. Me? All I can do is hide in the bell tower and wait for my friend to come home…” His voice cracked, small tears in his eyes. He blinked, looking down at the dirt as rubbed the tears away. Someone tackled him in a tight hug, making him gasp. “W-what?!” he stuttered, disliking the contact. He looked to see it was the one L.O.G.I.C. had called “Patton.”

Patton said something, pulling away. “Patton says he hopes you feel happier soon,” the robot told him. Patton continued to talk in the strange tongue, his eyes shimmering in the fire of the robot’s lantern. Meanwhile, the robot continued to translate for the bewildered teen. “To sum up what he’s saying, most of which being what you humans call ‘fluff’, he’s asking you to come with us because it does not look like you enjoy the life you are currently living. You mentioned a person named Vae when you were approaching us, might I ask who this is?”

Virgil snarled. “She’s my friend, dummy…” He ripped his body out of Patton’s grip, almost shoving the man away. “I’m waiting for her…” L.O.G.I.C. frowned. He mumbled something under his breath, though Virgil only caught the words “pesky emotions.” “So I can’t go with you,” he said, shaking his head and taking a step back. “I mean, I don’t even know you guys, and I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, and… and…” He couldn’t talk, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t feel. The world around his was spinning as he fell to his knees, gasping for breath.

He could vaguely sense someone running to him, shaking his shoulders slightly and saying something. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t breath. He couldn’t. He just _couldn’t._ Someone else was holding his hands, running their thumbs over his knuckles. He focused on that feeling, just that feeling, the feeling of warm skin meeting his, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, somebody found him worthy. He hadn’t felt it since Vae disappeared.

Someone was singing. He expanded his hazy focus from just the thumbs running across his knuckles to the voice that was so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. “ _Masae ioána tu an luüa, lavēhsea, agus tea tu rinda saänud ta. Waesa eayona rinda tä oppai-uoye-sinderūe, agus tu agus e taeyunge faero laehkona…_ ” His breath slowed down, the words permeating his frantic mind like a sun ray bursting through a sky full of thunderclouds. His eyes wandered up to meet blue ones. He got lost in those sky blue eyes that glittered like crystals in the night. They were warm, seeming to smile, and reminded him of a clear summer day, nostalgic of a time when he and Vae were children and they hadn’t learned to be scared. He recalled running through a field of tall reeds, Vae on his tail, playing tag as they run through the small town they grew up in.

The memory turned sour. Time jumped years, to when he was a young boy. He could clearly picture the face of his mother, smiling sweetly as she waved goodbye to her school-bound son. He came home that day to find his entire neighborhood gone, leaving just crumbled, charred ruins and trauma that wove falsehoods into his mind to make him forget the sight of his mother’s charred body, clinging to a small photograph of her son who no longer smiled.

He choked out another sob, the tears burning his face with shame and despair and everything gone to shit. The voice grew stronger, the thumbs becoming hands that grasped his own, holding them in a gentle yet firm grip. Hands became arms that pulled him into a strong embrace, not as familiar one Patton had given him, yet still warm and calming. He looked into those eyes, searching for worth, for love, for anything to anchor him to reality.

The person pulled him into his grasp, and he fell forward into their chest, his hands grasping silken fabric that had gone threadbare in some places. He buried his face into their warm body, staining their clothes with his tears. They smelled like smoke from campfires, like saltwater and seashells, like velvet in a thrift store.

“ _Sasha tu haao meh_ ,” they whispered, combing their soft fingers through his mousy hair. He listened to the sound of their heartbeat, his vision finally clearing as the tears began to dry. Virgil couldn’t bring himself to look at whoever it was who held him in their arms like he was their whole world. Instead, he snuggled closer to them, his ratty hoodie hardly protecting him from the bitter night.

The person gently grasped his chin between their forefinger and thumb and coaxed him to look up. Virgil tired his best to keep his gaze averted, feeling the shame beginning to crawl up his spine, but the person moved into his eyesight.

It was Roman.

That alone was enough to send Virgil back into hysterical whimpering, but seeming to sense Virgil’s apprehension, Roman pulled him even closer, hugging him. “ _Sasha tu haao meh, lavehsea_ ,” he repeated. Virgil’s gaze wavered, but Roman held it, staring into his eyes- and perhaps, his soul.

Something turned on within Virgil, deep down in his heart where he stowed all precious things. He didn’t seem to be disgusted by Virgil’s weakness. He didn’t seem to think Virgil was only worth keeping around for standing guard. No. He seemed to… _like_ Virgil. As though he meant something to the pretty boy with butterfly wings the color of cotton-candy.

He sniffed, wiping the tears in his eyes away. He tried smiling. Roman smiled brightly at him, and Virgil realized what exactly his heart was screaming at him: _Go with him. Go with them. Vae’s not coming back. They’re you’re new family, whether you like it or not. Go with him. Go._

His eyes met the robot’s. “Forgive me for not offering any condolences. I have no desire to involve myself with complex emotions such as yours and Roman and Patton’s,” he stated, offering a hand to Virgil. He stared at it for a moment before taking it and standing up, wiping away more tears. Roman got up, too, as Patton slung a arm around his shoulder.

“ _Rende hamun tu!_ ” Patton said, causing Roman to snort and L.O.G.I.C. to crack a smile.

“He said you’re his son now,” the robot translated. Virgil blanched, his face flushing shamefully. “You don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to…” L.O.G.I.C. said softly, tilting his head to the side.

To say he was conflicted would be an understatement. Heartstrings were being tugged at, old feelings of yearning to go on adventures being dug up and thrown about like confetti. Yet, he couldn’t leave. … _Could he?_ Could he leave Vae for dead, leave behind his home for the past two decades of his life, leave behind all he had left to remember of when the world was at one another’s throats, desperate to survive in a war-torn insanity? He felt his hands start shaking. He couldn’t leave. Vae was still out there. Until they found her body, she couldn’t be dead. But the little voice in his head told him different, told him to come to his senses and stop clinging like a child to all he held dear. He had nothing left here. Nobody left who loved him, no place that he could call home, no reason why he should stay.

He made his decision.

“Promise you won’t leave me behind,” he demanded, his fists clenching and shoulders tensing. L.O.G.I.C. seemed taken aback, but composed himself quickly.

“Of course,” he told Virgil softly, slightly confused at the request. “We would never leave you behind…” He trailed off, probably realizing that Virgil hadn’t given up his name yet. He wasn’t ready, though.

“Just… call me Anxiety. It’s an old nickname of mine,” he offered. L.O.G.I.C. blinked.

“Very well, Anxiety. I am to assume you have chosen to come with us?” Virgil nodded, biting his lip. He was really doing this… “Come along, then, the Sanders Yersinia is just a little ways away.” The travelers turned away from him, beginning to head back the way they came.

Virgil looked behind him. Looked at the town made of ruins and black snow and hate and fear and despair. Looked at the past that refused to leave him alone. He saw a glimpse of the base and the bell tower, where a tiny flicker of light continued to glow. He swallowed, turning around and joining his new companions. He was leaving this lonely planet, this heartbroken world, this desolate land, this disconsolate war. He wasn’t going to come back.

God, he hoped he was making the right decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the translation for what Roman was saying:
> 
> “Masae ioána tu an luüa, lavēhsea, agus tea tu rinda saänud ta. Waesa eayona rinda tä oppai-uoye-sinderūe, agus tu agus e taeyunge faero laehkona…”: I’ll sing you a sunset, darling, and gather you into my arms. Just let me look into your silver-lining-eyes, and you and I will dance across the sky.
> 
> “Sasha tu haao meh,” and “Sasha tu haao meh, lavehsea,”: You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay, darling.
> 
> (Once again, thank you all so much for reading and leaving some love :D <3)


	7. Sleeping Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If it had been a normal day, the crew of the Sanders Yersinia would have gone back to their ship for a night of bonding after catching with their friend Remy. They would have gone to the central square and played with the little baby animals that lived there. They would have stopped for a bite at the cafes nearby.  
> But it wasn't a normal day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY I get to introduce you lovely people to Calrex! (even if they're unconscious for most of the story)  
> Thank you all for leaving kudos and comments, I really appreciate each and every one of them :D
> 
> TW: Descriptions of wounds, self-deprecating thoughts, I think maybe one curse

Even in the dead of night, the pub was rowdy as ever. Drunken bounty hunters belted old folk songs in Kirou, their faces flushed and eyes drowsy. In a corner booth, outlaws told of their exploits, flailing their limbs to accentuate their daring deeds. The bartender, outfitted in a sleek black waistcoat and tie, sweated nervously as they ran about behind the counter, whipping up drinks with a flick of their wrist and sliding the multicolored liquids across the smooth surface, all while avoiding the grabby hands of the intoxicated patrons.

Despite its rambunctiousness, the pub was cozy, a home away from home. Fairy lights were strung from the high coal-colored ceiling, giving it the appearance of a summer night sky. The walls were painted peach, decorated with the stenciled silhouettes of a plum songbird in flight. The floor was obviously enchanted. Instead of wood or carpet or tile, sprigs of dew-covered grass popped up, invitingly stroking the ankles of passerby. In the back corner, a old, gnarled tree wove its way up the wall, one ancient limb stretching out to create the counter. Mounted behind it were shelves of glasses of every shape and size, originating from exotic lands. Fluffy pillows were piled in every booth, and upon request blankets would be provided.

_Sleeping Stars_ was famous for its hospitality and eccentric owner. It was _infamous_ , however, for being home base for every intergalactic outlaw ever known. The owner was not stupid, however. Xie interrogated each and every person who walked through the doors with an intimidation only the soldiers of King Draven of Caravelle could muster. Only the righteous were allowed in.

The owner was currently chatting up a storm with xir most frequent (and favorite) guests. Xie exchanged stories, the words flowing out of xir mouth like xir hair, which was currently black and white. Xir hands flapped about wildly, flamboyant as ever, and Anxiety had to duck several times to avoid being hit by the limbs.

“And I was, like, completely lost, ya know? I mean, I couldn’t even see the sky!” xie were saying, waving xir hands exaggeratedly. “It was just _wild_. Like, I don’t think I should be saying this or anything, but I could’ve, like, _died_ or something, ya know? It was _awesome_!”

Patton was watching xem closely, his eyes glued to the eccentric punk with gusto, his smile widen and thoughtful. “What happened then, Remy?” he asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity as he picked up the faint sound of L.O.G.I.C. beginning to talk with Roman in a hushed undertone, likely not entertained by the storyteller.

“I just wandered around for, like, _ever_ until I finally a bazaar or market or something. It was just insane, I swear.” Xie laced their hands together as they leaned on the countertop, inspecting their purple nails.

“Well, considering you were in Alyth, I would assume the market you are describing is Weston Alley,” L.O.G.I.C. commented. Remy paused from xir nail inspection to raise an eyebrow, judgmentally staring him down as xie adjusted the golden goggles xie wore at all time.

“Gurl, I knew that. I just never asked for you commentary, _nerd_ ,” xie sassed, snapping xir finger. Patton held back his giggle. Remy and L.O.G.I.C. in the same room was always a handful.

“Come now, Remy, L.O.G.I.C.’s commentary makes your stories all the more interesting!” Roman laughed as L.O.G.I.C. returned to his conversation. Patton could practically see Remy’s eye roll as xie made a sound of disapproval, xir hair now teal melting to sky blue.

“ _As I was saying_ , I found this market after a couple days. I was like, ‘Yay, I can find my way home now,’ but apparently fate had other plans, because then this really cute- and I mean _really cute- Renner came up to me and was like, ‘Hey, you wanna go for a drink?’ ya know? And, anyways, we ending up chatting for, like, an hour… or two… well, it was a long time, that’s what I remember, and to sum up, all I have to say is that they’re a _really_ good kisser.” Patton squealed, loving how Remy always added an element of romance to xir stories._

__

“Oh, that sounds so romantic!” he gushed. “Gee, I wish I had as much luck as you do when it comes to romance…” he mused, missing Roman and Anxiety’s glance at each other. “But, nothing compares to the love of my friends!” he said, throwing his arms around L.O.G.I.C., who was seated closest to him. The robot spluttered, tossing the Drisine’s arms off of him with several noises of discontent.

“Oh, your friends definitely love you, gurl. I can see it in their _eyes_ ,” Remy laughed, dragging over the attention of the more sober patrons.

“Well, love has failed me,” Patton said with a straight face, shrugging.

“Alright, well, it was fun catching, Remy, but I think we best be leaving now,” L.O.G.I.C. said suddenly, standing up, pushing out his bar stool. Patton began to make puppy eyes at his companion, not ready to go just yet. But his friend was firm, raising his eyebrows in the manner Patton had come to learn meant ‘don’t make me drag you out of here.’ Patton pouted but hopped off his stool, waving goodbye to Remy.

However, it seemed that Roman had other plans. “Oh, for crying out loud, L.O.G.I.C., we haven’t even stayed for that long! I’m _hardly_ drunk, and that just won’t do!” he whined as Anxiety hid a snicker behind a patched black sleeve of his hoodie. L.O.G.I.C. frowned, preparing for a full-out debate with the prince.

“Roman, you are adequately intoxicated enough. Any more alcohol and I will likely be the one carrying you to the spaceship, seeing as Patton is also slightly inebriated, and Anxiety… well, I just wouldn’t wish that upon him. In conclusion, shut up and let’s go,” L.O.G.I.C. argued. Anxiety snuck behind Roman to join Patton in his front-row seat in what was sure to be an intriguing show.

“I will not stand for your TYRANNY!” Roman proclaimed, somehow managing to jump on top of his barstool, his butterfly wings flapping furiously. L.O.G.I.C. huffed angrily.

“Flames! Flames, out of the side of my face! Just, seething fire!” he shouted, frustrated, making wild hand gestures. Roman bit his lip as he chuckled, which caused L.O.G.I.C. to lose it. “I WILL PHYSICALLY FIGHT YOU, YOU AWFUL CENTURION!” The robot leapt at the prince, diving for the stool he stood on. Patton and Anxiety immediately tensed as Roman cried out, toppling over onto the AI. “ _Get off of me!_ ” he cried, flipping over and bringing his arm back to strike.

“Stop! Logan, stop fighting right now!” Patton cried. The two stopped immediately, turning to the shapeshifter with bewildered faces.

“...Who the heck is Logan?” Roman asked, unaware that L.O.G.I.C.’s fist was still poised to strike over his face. Patton’s face turned completely red.

“Oh, dear Calypso, I’m so sorry! I meant to say L.O.G.I.C. and Roman, but you know how clumsy I am when it comes to… well, to anything,” he blurted, biting his lip. “Gee, I’m so sorry-”

“Patton, you don’t need to be sorry,” L.O.G.I.C. said, cutting him off. After an awkward pause, the robot removed himself from Roman, brushing the creases out of his still pristine clothing. He swallowed thickly, already prepared for whatever harangue Roman would surely deliver.

“I’m calling you Logan from now on, and you can’t convince me otherwise!” Roman proudly declared, getting up from the grass-covered floor of the pub with anything but grace. L.O.G.I.C. seemed to pale, his fists twitching at his sides. Roman was not blind to this, and immediately added, “If you let me call you Logan for the rest of time, we can leave now and I’ll leave whenever you want me to for the next times we’re here.” L.O.G.I.C.’s eyes narrowed, taking the offer into account. He was debating within his head the outcomes of both rejecting and accepting Roman’s offer, though he came to a conclusion quickly.

“Fine,” he snapped rapidly, grabbing Roman’s arm and marching out of the establishment. Patton snickered, grabbing Anxiety’s hand and following them. The four exited the pub to be met with the brisk, cool air of fall. The evening sky was glowing silver, white stars beginning to peek out from behind charcoal clouds. “Let’s go,” L.O.G.I.C. uttered, clearly flustered at his new nickname.

“I think I’m going to start calling him Logan, too,” Patton whispering in a conspiratorial tone to Anxiety, who simply gave him a small smile. “Come on, let’s catch up!” he cheered, pulling his friend’s arm to catch up with their other two companions.

It would’ve have been the start to a peaceful night. They would head back to the ship, set a course for a new planet to seek adventure, and settle down for a “lengthy recharge session,” as L.O.G.I.C. would put it. They might visit the local bistro for a bite, or maybe go to the Center Square, where Roman would inexorably fawn over the adorable animals that frolicked about after dusk.

But their story was not one of simple pleasures and fluff.

A piercing shriek rang out, cutting through the air. The strange travelers stopped in their tracks, turning to the back alley behind _Sleeping Stars_ , where the scream originated from. They had never bothered with exploring what catacombs it lead to, and were thus novices to whatever dangers it could harbor.

“And I vote no for going into the gloom, doom and darkness,” Roman stated, starting to walk away from the alley.

“But, Roman,” Patton wheedled, “what if someone’s hurt? They might need our help!” Without hesitation, Patton let go out Anxiety’s hand to plunge into the back alley’s mystery. At first, it seemed just like garbage strewn about, no doubt feasted upon by the nocturnal hunters and scavengers. But, then, Patton’s eyes adjusted to the lack of light and caught the twisting form of a shadow. He ran toward it, shifting into the form of an old animal from his home planet, a Rogall. Though he was much smaller than the actual animal, he was still a fearsome sight, with glowing eyes, leathery black skin, and talons sharp as any knife.

Rogall-Patton leapt towards the shadow, letting out a fierce howl. The shadow turned towards him. He froze up suddenly upon seeing the person’s eyes. One was dark as the night, silver haze surrounding it, and the other was neon yellow. He remembered those eyes. The misery and pain and despair they had caused. The chain of events they had set in motion. The lives they had taken. The best friend they had irrevocably damaged. He remembered those eyes all too well.

Before he could make his move against whoever it was, they hissed and threw a large black fabric over them. As it whirled around them, the figure disappeared, leaving only shadows and graffiti on the back wall. He assumed the danger was hopefully passed and morphed back into his form more similar to his companions’, this time sporting baby blue curls falling over his antlers to match his eyes.

He heard someone running up behind him. “Patton, what’s going on?” Anxiety called, catching up with his friend. “Are you-” Anxiety suddenly switched to his native language, his eyes wide and surprise, focused on something on the ground.

Patton turned his attention to the cement ground of the alleyway and gasped. As he had run in, the light had been in his eyes, grazing through the exit several buildings away. But now that it was behind him, it caressed what Patton had first thought to be garbage. What the light shone on, however, was not sleek bags filled with putrefaction and leftovers, but the caramel skin of a being. Dust particles leapt around in the rays of fading light that made their barely shoulder-length blue-green hair shine. Their ears stuck out from underneath strands of messy hair, long, pointy, and pierced every two inches. They wore a camo green tank top that hugged their bony rib cage and showed off a small tribal tattoo of a snake-like creature and neutral shorts. A utility belt was wrapped around their waist, a small satchel similar to Roman’s hanging off one loop to the side. Their legs were splayed in an awkward and probably painful position, showing off the black combat boots buckled tightly around their calves. Two large scars reached across their right leg, the tissue wrinkled and disturbing to look at for any long period of time.

They appeared to be sleeping; the soft light gave them an almost… soft edge to the otherwise serious scene. Patton was concerned, though. He could see tiny droplets of crimson blood splattered on their smooth stomach, and from even here he could hear their labored breathing. They needed medical help.

“Anxiety, can you grab their arms? I’ll grab their legs; we’ve got to get them to the ship as soon as possible,” he ordered, kneeling to the ground as he grabbed their ankles. Anxiety nodded, understanding what Patton intended to do, and reached down to grab their wrists. “Alright, lift!” he cried, using his body weight to lift the unconscious person; Anxiety grunted as he followed suit. Together, they managed to hold the body suspended in midair. “Let’s go, kiddo,” he breathed, straining under the dead weight of the being.

“Patton, Anxiety, are you alright?” L.O.G.I.C. as soon as they exited the back alley. Roman and the robot seemed equally concerned at the strange being they carried, going to help the two hold their body.

“We’re both alright,” the Drisine told the AI, “but this person needs help right away. I’m not going to be the reason they suffer!” he cried passionately. L.O.G.I.C. blinked in surprise, his grasp on the lead-like limbs momentarily slipping before he adjusted his hands skillfully.

They were quite a sight as they headed quickly to the old abandoned warehouse where they normally hid the Sanders Yersinia, though the passerby seemed to preoccupied with their own troubles to worry about the four oddities carrying what could very well be a dead body. Luckily, they managed to make into behind closed doors without much suspicion or unnecessary encounters with law enforcement.

Patton let go of one leg to wave his hand as they approached the ship; the ramp started dropping down, its mechanical groans echoing in the cavernous, industrial factory. They boarded and headed straight for the medical bay, where the shapeshifter urgently ordered his friends to set the person on one of the cots pushed back against the smooth, bland white wall. They fell limp on the cream fabric stretched between two wooden rods, their colorful hair falling away from their face. For the first time, all four of them could clearly see their face. This time, Patton noticed two thin, jagged scars cutting across from their left cheek to their ear, and a large bruise the color of dark wine bloomed on the opposite side.

By now, their clothing was stained with dark puddles of crimson blood, small scratches and bleeding cuts visible all across their body. Patton squeaked, distressed at the sight of this poor person who was so brutally beaten up by- he swallowed thickly.

“Oh, crap, are they dead?” Anxiety asked upsetly. He was pacing swiftly, wringing his hands as he bit his lip gratingly. “Please don’t tell me we brought a _dead body_ into the ship!” His breathing was becoming erratic, that, they all noticed. It was Roman who stepped in front of him, taking his broad shoulders in his gentle hands, squeezing the tense muscle tightly. Anxiety whimpered softly, burying his face in the prince’s chest, a tradition those two had upheld since the day they’d met.

“Don’t worry, my little thunderstorm, I’m sure Patton’s healing abilities will be able to help them,” Roman reassured. Anxiety blushed and mumbled something along the lines of “Stop calling me that.” “Right, Patton?” the prince asked, turning to him.

“O-of course!” he blurted. He hoped it was enough to convince them, himself included. “Can you guys, maybe… step out? It would give me some room to work…” Patton asked, feeling his heart race. L.O.G.I.C. nodded and left posthaste, Anxiety freeing himself from Roman’s grasp and following the robot outside the med bay. Roman, however, lingered. “Roman?” Patton asked gently.

“You looked scared out of your wits when you came back with them,” Roman stated, not looking at his friend. Patton felt dread begin to seep into his heart, freezing it slowly. “What did you see?” It was such a simple question, yet he couldn’t bring himself to answer. He was terrified of those eyes, and he hadn’t witnessed the brutal destruction it had caused firsthand. No, that memory belonged to Roman. He couldn’t remind Roman of all he had gone through, all he kept hidden so eagerly from his unassuming companions, all he had tried so hard to forget. He couldn’t do that to his friend.

“Nothing, Roman. I was just… really worried about the wounds they had,” he said. It wasn’t necessarily a lie, just leaving out the bulk of the truth. Roman’s eyes narrowed but he huffed and went on his way, accepting Patton’s answer for the time being. The shapeshifter knew it would come up again, but for now, at least, Roman wouldn’t have to face the past that was rapidly catching up with his encumbering pace.

The door shut with a soft click that echoed in the now empty room. Patton took a deep, steadying breath, and set to work. He could this. He could this. He could do this, and definitely not make things worse.

From initial inspection, Patton could tell that the bruises on them would heal within a few days, and the scratches littering their body as if they had fought with a thorn bush and lost were not the cause the of the blood staining their cropped tank top. Whatever wound they had sustained that was keeping them in such critical condition was under that shirt. He just had to take it off.

“Oh, no, I can’t do that!” Patton said aloud as he came to the realization of what he had to do. “That’s an invasion of personal space, and I don’t know if they’d be comfortable with me doing that, and consent, and-” Patton forced himself to breathe. No matter how conflicted he was, he needed to get a good look at their wounds to properly treat them. Maybe… maybe he could cover up any… parts with a towel? He nodded to himself. He could do this.

  
  


The wound didn’t look so bad at first glance after he uncomfortably removed the bloody garment that clung to their skin like water; it was just a small gash across their sternum. But the more Patton studied it, the more it seemed this was not any ordinary wound. It was a lot deeper than he originally inferred, and the edges were slowly dissolving into near-invisible smoke. Patton bit his lip out of habit, feeling the dread in his heart crawl back into, its tendrils clutching his fragile organ viciously.

“What to do, what to do?” he mused worriedly. While he had treated his fair share of wounds in the past, he’d only seen one like this on Roman, just after… “Oh, Calypso.” His tongue felt too dry, his throat too scratchy, his head too dizzy, his feelings too extreme. The last shred of doubt he held close to his chest dissipated, leaving him feeling raw and scared of how he would ever be able to tell Roman the truth.

But the person came first. It had been six years since he and his royal best friend had run away, and his memory of treating the burns of his friend’s legs was starting to fade. But he had to try. He had to at least _try_.

Decisively, he grabbed disinfectant from a nearby cabinet unit and began cleaning the wound skillfully, swiping away miniscule bits of rubble from the wound. He was nervous, to say the least, but he couldn’t let his emotions control him. Not now.

Humming softly as he worked, Patton methodically cleaned the wound and began stitching it up. He still had to take care of whatever was causing the skin to dissipate. Rarely would he ever allow himself to think back to that day when everything changed. He could still clearly recall the panic on Roman’s face, which he had never seen before. His friend was the bravest person he knew, yet something had him downright terrified. And then. Then Roman played hero and forced him to leave and it had been a month of lying low and scavenging for food and pretending nothing hurt at night before he finally heard word that the royals were to be burned at the stake. He turned his back against his prince’s orders and stole the ship after an altercation with the previous owner.

Rescuing Roman from the bonfire had been easy. Rescuing Roman from his uncle, from the nightmares that haunted him every time he went to sleep, from the burns on his calves that still made it hard for him to walk sometimes? _That_ was hard. The hardest part for Patton, though, was letting the memories flood his mind again, remembering how he’d done _nothing_ while his best friend watched his parents burn alive. How he’d done nothing as Roman cried into his shoulders as soon as they were out of the galaxy. How he could never do anything.

A tear slipped out of his eye, spilling over his cheek and staining his skin with melancholy.

No. He had to focus, or the person who lay on the cot would die. He could already see the sutures he had made beginning to unravel as the skin continued to disintegrate before his very eyes. He forced himself to think about treating Roman’s wounds, the medicine he had used, and what he had to do to make sure this person was okay. He shoved the sight of charred skin, Roman’s screams of pain as he removed the dead skin, and the pungent smell of the med bay that day towards the back of his mind.

He had used some sort of herb to soothe the skin- _jahida_ , he recalled- and a crushed root powder to stop the spreading of whatever was happening- _yandarse._ He let out a breath, feeling his confidence swell to average levels. He could do this. He had _yandarse_ in the top shelf in the back corner, and _jahida_ in the middle shelf in the cabinet behind him. With no time lost, he grabbed the two ingredients he needed and got to work. He could do this. Everything would be fine.

He didn’t know how he did it. Somehow he managed to not kill the poor person and stop the disintegration of their skin. Relief was overflowing in his systems, though, for him, it was more than just relief. It was joy and pride and gratefulness and- and… Patton’s smile fell. He hated moments like these. When emotions were indescribable, when he couldn’t explain to his friends why he was crying during happy moments like the world was ending, when he himself didn’t understand his feelings. He hated it.

“Patton?” someone called from outside. He jolted back to reality. “Is everything okay?” It was Anxiety, of course, always anxious about him, true to his nickname.

“Y-yeah,” he called. “You guys can come in if you want,” he added. The door opened to reveal his three friends, who entered as soon as the door opened wide enough for them all. They approached the person on the cot with caution, as though just staring at them with blatant curiosity would provoke them in their stoic sleep.

“Please tell me they’re going to be okay,” Anxiety said. Patton quirked the corners of his lips up, nodding silently, not trusting himself to use words just yet.

“What were their wounds like?” L.O.G.I.C. asked, opening a notebook he had apparently stuffed in his inner coat pocket.

“Really? _That’s_ what you’re interested in?” Roman asked skeptically. L.O.G.I.C. made some sort of offended noise, shaking his pencil angrily at the prince. Patton breathed a chuckle, hiding behind a slight cough.

“Well, kiddo, they’re not hurt too bad; just some scratches and bruises that should heal up in a couple days with the power of love!” Patton giggled before he trailed off, frowning. “They have this gash on their chest, though, which is what I’m worried about. I managed to sew it up, so it’s stopped bleeding for now. But the skin might start disintegrating again-”

“Disintegrating?” Roman asked, his face darkening. Patton clamped his hand over his mouth as soon as he realized he had let more than he should’ve. “You mean like you-know-what?” Patton nodded slowly, glancing back at the unconscious person. “Patton, do you mean to tell me that Draven is _here_?” The shapeshifter nodded again, wary at the grim tone in his friend’s voice. Roman turned swiftly on his heel, headed of the exit. “Oh, sweet Calypso... We need to get out of here, right now,” he muttered loud enough for the rest to hear. Patton began to follow his friend before someone caught his arm, stopping him. He turned to see L.O.G.I.C., an unidentifiable expression on his face, the seams between his face plates more visible under the bright lights of the med bay.

“What is Roman talking about, Patton?” he asked. The Drisine gulped.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Already, the memories were beginning to wake up in the back of his mind, saying hello in the most wicked way possible. “I can’t tell you. I… I just can’t.” L.O.G.I.C. opened his mouth as if to say something, but was cut off by a loud gasp. The three travelers in the room looked at the cot, where the person was waking up, blinking their eyes to adjust to the lights shining from the ceiling. They groaned, moving their head to the side.

“What the hell...?” they whispered, their voice hoarse and raspy. They blinked again, trying to move their hands to rub the sleep from their eyes to find their arms restrained by the heavy blanket Patton had covered them with to keep them warm. Patton was by their side now, waiting for them to notice him so they wouldn’t be so surprised. They finally opened their eyes all the way to reveal orbs the colors of the wide open ocean and a jungle canopy. Their eyes fixated on Patton, and they yelped in surprise, jolting before hissing in pain, having disturbed the stitched wound on their chest.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!” the shapeshifter cried, waving his hands in a frenzy. “Are you feeling alright?” He watched as the multi-colored orbs scanned the room, unable to focus on a spot for more than one moment. After finally judging they were in no immediate danger, their eyes flitted back to him.

“Who are you?” they asked, their tone dark and defensive. “Where is this?” Patton noticed how they bit their bottom lip, a glimmer of fear in their eyes behind the rough-and-tough act.

“This is the Sanders Yersinia,” Anxiety said, stepping forward, causing them to flinch again. They eyes gave the boy a once-over, then moved to L.O.G.I.C., who stood beside him, and decided neither of the two posed any threat to them. “We’re… outlaws, I guess.” Their eyes narrowed.

“I’m Patton, your happy pappy parental figure!” the shapeshifter cheered, a big smile stretching across his face.

“I’m L.O.G.I.C.,” the robot said monotonously, giving a small nod to them.

“And everyone just calls me Anxiety,” the earthbound being said softly, giving them a little wave before shoving his hands back into the pockets of his ever-present hoodie. “There’s also another guy on board, Roman.” At the mention of the prince, the person paled, their eyes wide, which didn’t go unnoticed. “Wait, do you know-”

“Greetings, friends!” a voice said from above. Patton jumped, feeling silly right after as he realized it was Roman speaking over the intercom.

“ _Speak of the devil_ ,” Anxiety mused quietly.

“Anxiety, I heard that!” Roman said. Anxiety blushed, embarrassed at being caught. “I’d like to let you all know we’re all geared up for liftoff, so if you could please buckle up, that would be lovely!” Instinctively, the three companions of the prince quickly grabbed seats stowed under the counter behind the cots. The bases were magnetic, so they would be able to sit wherever they liked during take off. The being with the multicolored eyes, however, tried to sit up, only to be met with pain.

“Oh, no, stop!” Patton told them. “You’ll hurt yourself even worse!” They snarled at him and continued their efforts in vain, as Patton moved his chair closer to pin their arms down. “You’re going to open up the stitches if you keep up like that,” he said.

“Get off of me!” they yelled annoyedly, shoving Patton off of them with little success. “Why are we taking off? I need to-” they grunted in pain. “I need to get back to the streets! The bastard is still out there, and I’m not letting him get away again!” they shouted with passion.

Patton stilled. “You… you mean Draven?” The person winced at the name. “Oh, Calypso, we really _do_ have to get out of here now,” he mumbled.

“What?! No!” the person growled. With his arms locking their upper body in place, he could feel their rapid breathing, reaching the point of hyperventilation. “You’re not taking me with you!” Again, they tried to throw Patton off of them, but he wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t let this poor person get hurt because of him. “I’ll kill you!” they threatened suddenly.

“Hey!” Anxiety shouted, startling the both of them. It was rare that Anxiety ever raised his voice, even more so in anger. “Patton just saved your life, at least show him respect!” The person’s nostrils flared, their lip curling. “And besides, can’t you feel us moving already? Roman already took off. It’s too late; you’re coming with us.” With a start, Patton realized they had indeed begun flying; he’d hardly noticed the subtle vibration from under the floor panels. The person, however, did not like this.

“Are you kidnapping me, then?” Something reminiscent of realization flashed across their mind. “Oh. Oh, oh, oh, you’re bounty hunters aren’t you? You just want the price on my head, don’t you?” They laughed bitterly. “Well, I suppose I’d be caught sometime.” Patton tilted his head incredulously.

“What do you mean, ‘bounty hunters’?” Their eyes whipped towards the Drisine, judgemental and ever-so-similar to the eyes that haunted his past. “We’re outlaws, nothing more, nothing less. Technically, we’re also public enemies of the DR-34-M galaxy system, but, really, we’re not trying to hurt you or anything,” Patton said sincerely, willing them to understand. “...Speaking of, are you an outlaw, too? Maybe we could be outlaw buddies!” Patton missed L.O.G.I.C. facepalming himself, dragging his hand across his face exasperatedly.

But the person didn’t pay any attention to the shapeshifter’s question. "Then, you want me for my body,” they stated, their demeanor completely shifting into one more seductive and alluring. Patton gave a little gasp of surprise.

“Of course not!” he cried defensively. “We only want to help you!” he insisted.

“Patton is correct, surprisingly. He heard you scream and ran into an alley, where he found you. We took you back in the ship because he determined that you needed medical attention straightaway,” L.O.G.I.C. explained. The person slowly relaxed their body, finally allowing Patton to secure them in place as the ship ascended into the heavens, ready to leave for whatever planet Roman had plugged into the coordinate map.

“What do you want from me then?” Patton was taken aback at the vulnerability in their voice, suddenly filling with an urge to protect this young person who for whatever reason hated Draven as much as he and Roman did.

“Friendship?” Patton asked unconfidently, slightly shrugging his shoulders. The person chuckled lowly, almost disbelieving of their luck.

“With me? You, a stranger I have only just met, want to be friends me, the most wanted outlaw King Draven is hunting down with every resource he has?” they asked sarcastically. Patton’s curiosity was piqued at their words.

“I thought that title belonged to us,” Anxiety joked. Their eyes narrowed, though not in suspicion.

“Do you not know who I am?” they asked incredulously.

“Outlaws don’t have that much time to stop and check to see who’s joined our ranks, you know,” L.O.G.I.C. commented with an eye roll. The person rolled their eyes back at the robot.

“I’m known as the Pirate by most,” they said, expecting at least some sort of recognition. Patton’s brows furrowed as he tried recalling when he had ever heard that name. They let out a sigh. “You really don’t know me, then,” they mused. After a moment of thought, they quirked up a corner of their lips, smirking. “Just call me Calrex, then.”

Patton smiled. “Welcome aboard, then, Calrex.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i mention this story has now reached a length of about 31 pages? this fanfic is now longer than any novels i actually planned on writing. wowie ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	8. Adventure Of A Lifetime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calrex likes robbing banks. They also like doses of chaos. 
> 
> TW: cursing becuase Cal has a dirty mouth, mentions of injuries, mentions of angsty backstories, a transphobic slur is mentioned

Their wounds were finally healed. In the weeks it took for the gash on their chest to close up enough that it no longer needed stitches, Calrex found themself slowly warming up to these strange outlaws who had practically adopted them as one of their own. Cal was still wary of them, especially knowing that Draven was after them as well. They’d yet to wrangle the story out of them of exactly _why_ that bastard was hunting _them_ of all people.

With a yawn, they stretched their thin arms high above their head, cracking their neck to get the kinks out of it. Patton finally told them the night before they could start walking around the ship for more than a couple minutes. Though they’d never admit it to anybody, Patton had quickly become their favorite, with his paternal antics and constant smiles.

They swung their legs over the side of the cot that had been their home for the past few weeks as Patton happily doted over them, monitoring the cut across their chest. They were still unsteady, as the father-like figure had only allowed them to begin walking earlier that week, and only for short bits at a time.

“Believe me,” he’d told them. “You don’t want _any_ chance of your skin beginning to dissipate again.” Thankfully, they’d listened to him, and now they could finally use their legs for what they were made for.

Cal stood cautiously, testing out the strength of their limbs. Figuring they were sound enough to stand, they took a tentative step forward on uneasy feet, not used to Patton’s absence. They didn’t fall, which they considered an ‘okay’ to step forward further. Letting out a breath of relief, their foot landed firmly on the solid floor. Smirking, they headed for the door. Now that Cal could move freely, they were going to explore every inch of this mysterious ship.

The doors opened as they waved their hand to reveal a long hallway splitting off into several other corridors. “Who in the heavens designed this place?” they muttered, craning their sore neck to look around at the pristine white walls. It was certainly _boring_.

“Oh, you’re awake already!” they heard. They turned their gaze from a brightly lit panel to down the hallway, where Patton poked his head out from behind a corner. “Follow me, I made breakfast for everybody!” They opened their mouth to ask why a kitchen was necessary in a spaceship, but their stomach interrupted them, growling loudly. Patton giggled. “Looks like I finished at the right time!” he laughed, the sound melodious and reminiscent of- Cal stopped their thoughts there.

They obediently followed the antlered man, who took them through a maze of hallways until they could smell the food and knew the kitchen was close. Patton waved his hand in front of a little panel, and the circular doors beside him spun open. Inside the room were the rest of the crew members Cal had met. L.O.G.I.C.- Patton and Roman had begun calling him Logan during their time on the ship- was seated at the table, his eyes scanning over pages of a leather-bound journal as he jotted down notes with a jet black feather that sparkled in the light. Roman was scouring through the cabinets, his hair mussed and unruly at this early morning hour; a bag of makeup that was definitely his was on the countertop, its contents spilling overboard. Anxiety was sitting on top of the countertop like a feline, contently munching on a piece of toast with what looked like jam smeared on top.

“Oh, Calrex, how do you feel today?” Logan asked, looking up from his notes and noticing them. They shrugged, not really sure themselves.

“I dunno. Bored, for one. Not much you can do in a cot for three weeks straight,” they complained, heading for a chair. Patton, meanwhile, headed for the cooking devices, where Cal noticed he had been making some sort of dish they had never seen before.

“What do mean, ‘bored?’ Believe me, young noble, there is so much just waiting for you!” Roman cried, triumphantly grabbing a small jar from a cabinet, proceeding to struggle with its cap as he tried to open it. “...Anxiety could you... maybe help?” he mumbled. Sighing, the emo grabbed the jar and twisted it open with little effort, handing back to the embarrassed prince.

Cal snickered. “And just what do you have in mind to entertain me, Princey?” They smirked, a hand on their cocked hip. The prince grumbled something with a spoon full of jelly in his mouth, snarfing it down like a hungry orphan.

“How you feel about robbing a bank, Calrex?” Logan asked, adjusting the navy blue ascot tie he wore beneath a black waistcoat. Cal’s smile widened, showing off a mouth full of sharp fangs.

“Positively! I feel very positive about robbing a bank!” they shouted with glee, already fantasizing about the destruction they’d wager. “Which one are we going to? How much are we taking? Can I use a blaster?!”

“Calm down, Calrex, it’s a simple operation so we may acquire the necessary funds to continue our “intergalactic punk acts,” as Anxiety refers to them. We are headed to an aquaterrestrial planet known as Levian, and we will only be taking as much as we need.” Logan smirked. “If the commoners nearby decide they would like to take back the money they used to pay egregiously overpriced taxes, however, then that is entirely up to them.” Cal huffed.

“Well, look here, everybody, the robot has a heart!” they exclaimed as Roman choked on his jam, laughing.

“Aw, he’s actually a big softie when nobody’s around to see it!” Patton said giddily, overly excited for both the upcoming adventure and Logan’s slip of character. “Anyways, I’m setting course for Levian as soon as we finish breakfast, so eat up everybody!” The other four hummed in acquiescence, munching on the food Patton had prepared for them. They all joined Logan at the table, though Anxiety allowed Cal to take his seat, leaning against the window behind Logan.

“So, tell me, Calrex,” Roman was saying, finishing off the last spoonfuls of his delicious jam, “why is it that you’re an outlaw? Whose feathers did you ruffle?” They hesitated briefly, the tension of their shoulders only noticed by the cameras in Logan’s eyes.

“...Actually, I’m not that sure myself,” they sighed, running a hand through the tangled locks of their hair. “I ran away from my orphanage, so I guess some people might consider that ‘criminal.’ According to my wanted posters, though?” They trailed off, licking their smiling lips, enjoying the suspense as the others leaned forward, eager to find out. “I destroyed an entire galaxy system, and killed everyone.” The table fell silent, taking a tense turn.

“Did you really?” Patton asked, his brows slightly furrowed.

“Well, of course I didn’t!” Cal cried, offended. “I _wish_ I was strong enough or as badass enough to actually do it, but, nope, I can’t even hold my own in a fight…” They snarled at long-forgotten memories, bitterly recalling past grudges and losses. “Nah, I suspect it was some sort of shit Draven put together after- nevermind.” They cut themself off suddenly, gripping the edge of their seat tightly in their palms. The crew members noticed, but remained silent, inferring Cal’s story was one like their own- painful, and not to be discussed.

The rest of breakfast was quiet, most dialogue pertaining to one of them asking another to pass the butter. At one point, however, Logan asked Roman to pass him the salt, to which the prince replied, “I don’t think I can lift Anxiety, though.” That got a laugh out of the rest of them, however short-lived the relief of silence was.

Patton soon left for the cockpit, Roman following him. Logan turned his attention back to his writing, mumbling something about cross-space travel, leaving Anxiety and Cal to shuffle their feet awkwardly. The earthling coughed into the sleeve of his hoodie, feeling the silence stretch longer than he wanted it to.

“So, you like robbing banks? Who’re you, Nimona?” he asked, his voice small and tinny in the thick silence that preceded it. Cal nodded, thankful for something to distract them from something other than the quiet scratch of Logan’s pencil on notebook paper, paying no mind to the second part of his dialogue, more than likely a reference they wouldn’t understand.

“I’ve had quite a bit of practice over the years. A little nick of a galleon or two here, a little swipe of a jewel or three there, the usual. Most of it I give away, though. There are people who’re starving out there, so if going hungry one night means another person doesn’t die of hunger, I’d do it in a heartbeat,” they mused, gaining a faraway look in their eyes. Anxiety tilted his head, smiling softly as he saw Logan pause from his writings out of the corner of his eyes.

“Say, why don’t we talk to Thomas? He’s always fun,” Anxiety proposed, getting up and heading for the door. He stopped in front of the circuit board on the wall next to it and typed in something on the number pad. Cal watched him with confusion before a hologram appeared next to them. They shrieked in surprise, Anxiety sniggering with mirth.

“What is up, crew buddies? Who’s the new pal?” the hologram asked, turning to Cal with a smile that seemed too real to be digital. The hologram looked similar to Roman, though with light chestnut instead of blond hair swept over his warm brown eyes. He was donned in a bright red charvet shirt, though not much else. The image cut off right below his chest, an electric blue edge fizzing in the air like real-life glitches.

“Hi, Thomas!” Anxiety greeted, waving at the hologram, who waved back. “This is Patton’s newest childling.” Cal stuck out a hand before realizing the person apparently named Thomas was just a hologram, and shaking hands would most likely be one-sided.

“The name’s Calrex Bennova. Most people just call me the Pirate, though, seeing as I’m wanted in nearly every system there is,” they offered, quirking a side of their lips. “Who’re you, exactly?” they inquired.

“As Anxiety said, my name’s Thomas, your local, friendly AI! I’m basically the ship’s mind.” Cal narrowed their eyes, raising an eyebrow. “Logan was the one who programmed me, and he takes the more logical side of things, so he programmed most of my functions. Anxiety wrote down most of my speech patterns, though,” Thomas explained. Cal noticed Logan straighten at the mention of his new name.

“Oh no, you, too,” he said, pressing his lips into a thin line of frustration.

“Yah, Patton sort of changed your name in my database and I think Anxiety put a lock on it, so I guess I’m calling Logan from now on!” Thomas said cheerfully, shrugging his digital shoulders nonchalantly. Logan closed his eyes, taking a deep, audible breath.

“Ooh, hoo, hoo, I’m _really_ regretting not leaving when I had the chance,” he muttered under his breath. He snapped his notebook shut, placing it delicately on the table as Cal and Thomas continued to examine one another.

The hologram tilted his head suddenly, his brows furrowing. “Ah, sorry, pals, but Patton and Roman are summoning me right now, so I gotta dash,” he said before the image was promptly cut off, nothing more than white static and garbled speech.

“Well, shoot,” Anxiety said, pouting. “There goes our only escape from boredom.”

“Nonsense, Anxiety, I can easily help with that.” Both Cal and Anxiety raised their eyebrows, clearly not seeing how the intellectual could possibly entertain them. “I recently memorized the entire _Requiem_ scripture, which, despite its facade to be a book on religion, is actually quite an interesting commentary on our humanity and philosophy-”

“Nope, I’m good,” Anxiety said sharply, shaking his head fervently. “I’m going to go join Patton and Roman, so see you guys.” Anxiety finger-gunned the both of them, at which they cocked a confused eyebrow at the earthling’s antics, and make a hasty retreat from a possible hour long lecture on intergalactic morals. Cal breathed a laugh, rolling their eyes. They cast a side glance at Logan, catching him watching them intently.

“Don’t even think about it,” they warned. “I’m not about to be your next victim.”

“Very well,” Logan conceded. “Shall we join our crew mates?” Cal shrugged, getting up as Logan did the same. He waved his hand in front of the blueish panel, the doors opened, and they walked through in silence.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the cockpit, weaving in and out of a labyrinth of white-walled hallways. Anxiety was waiting for them there, Patton and Roman seated in the pilot chairs, small holograms flickering over their gazes. Cal’s breath stopped momentarily as they took in the sight of the room.

Behind them was a wall filled with buttons and wires and levers and all sorts of things that made no sense to them. The floor was transparent, giving the illusion of walking out right onto the stars. A faraway cluster of stars painted the heavens beneath them a neon purple, the celestial skies dark as a raven’s fallen feather. In front of them were two high-backed leather seats the color of marble, holographic screens popping up in front of them to deliver information. Ahead, the entire wall was one seamless pane of glass, not a single fingerprint visible.

It reminded them of happier times, when they could tell themself their childhood myths without triggering some painful memory. They bit their lip and focused on the stars twinkling like divine dancers slowly reaching their svelte arms towards them.

“...bank,” Logan was explaining, likely describing how they would go about robbing whatever establishment the robot had chosen. They cursed silently, having heard not a word. “Calrex, are you paying attention?”

“What? Who, me? Yeah, of course. I get a blaster and destroy everything in my path, got it.” Logan’s eyes narrowed, unimpressed. “Okay, fine, I got a little distracted by the stars and everything. Just tell me what I have to do, I’ll be fine.”

“Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to take part. You have only just healed, and you hardly know anything about us. Robbing any establishment is more than just pointing a weapon and demanding resources- it is a carefully crafted dance where everyone knows the parts they must play in order for the performance to go as smoothly as possible,” Logan replied. Roman snorted.

“I thought we normally just go off the cuff and end up with you ranting how certain damages could’ve been avoided if we’d just listened to you,” he laughed, his reflection in the glass smirking.

Logan pursed his lips. “You see what I have to deal with?” He gestured towards the prince, who smiled and waved. Cal shook their head sarcastically, fooling the robot. “Roman’s a handful and he’s emotional and he’s illogical. Is that not the worst possible scenario for any being to encounter?” The crew mates shook their heads, biting back giggles. Logan sighed. “Well, I’m frustrated now.” Cal barked out a laugh, shaking their head as they let out a long sigh.

The hologram called Thomas appeared suddenly next to them, frightening them. “Fucking Calypso! Don’t do that!” they yelped, jumping about a foot in the air, a hand clasped over their heart. Thomas cracked a smile, sheepishly apologizing as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Language, Calrex! Anyways, we’ll be arriving soon kiddos, so grab onto something,” Patton said, turning his head slightly to direct his words at the three behind him.

“What bank are you guys robbing this time?” Thomas asked.

“You’ll see,” Logan said, bringing out a pair of glasses from a breast pocket on his chest. “You all remember your illusions? Oh, Cal, you never gave me your answer. Do you want to take part in this? You’re free to leave at any time, now that you are sufficiently healed, though I must warn you that Patton does not like goodbyes.”

Cal thought for a moment. They and the crew had slowly warmed up to one another, though neither ever asked each other why Draven was hunting them. But in the few weeks they had been in the med bay, they had felt a sense of familiarity. A sense of home. A sense of belonging. It had been something they hadn’t experienced for a long time, something they only ever felt in wispy dreams that floated beside them in the heavens, mixing and mashing and creating beautiful creatures they knew they had seen somewhere beforehand.

Before them was a chance to finally have a family. No longer would they be alone. No longer would they be living on the streets. No longer would they be unwanted.

“Sure, if you want me,” they replied, lifting their head to the purple and navy skies, brilliant white stars continuing their immortal ballet. Logan nodded, Patton clapping happily. They let out a breath they hadn’t realized they’d been holding in. Part of them had latched onto distant memories that had begun fading, of the constant rejection, the endless days where they were told over and over again _nobody wanted them today_. Not yesterday. Not today. Not tomorrow. _Never_.

“That settles it. Come with me, we need to figure out a way to disguise you. Along the way I’ll explain our usual tactics,” he said, adjusting a pair of metal-rimmed glasses on his nose. He blinked, testing his vision, and determined his sight was not deterred by the pieces of convex glass. He grabbed Cal’s arm and led them out of the room, ushering them into one nearby. “Grab a stool, I believe we will be landing soon,” he instructed, grabbing a stool for himself. Cal followed the orders, and soon felt the familiar rumble of a spaceship entering a planet’s atmosphere, adjusting to the pressure and weather conditions.

“So, tell me, how exactly do you plan to disguise the most wanted outlaw whose face is plastered on every building you could think of?” Cal asked, lacing their fingers beneath their chin, settling their arms on a knee, feeling the ship begin to rock as the ship prepared to land.

“Roman will cover your scars, though I have no idea _how_ , and I will provide you with an attire that should cover any other distinguishable features, yet still be functional should we encounter unnecessary problems.” With that said, the AI strode over to a chest in the corner of the room and opened it with a flourish, revealing dozens of clothing items packed neatly into the cramped space.

Cal’s eyes were immediately drawn to one piece. Though folded, they could tell it was a silk dress the color of faded cream. Logan noticed where their gaze fell and picked up the dress. As the garment whoosed into the air, a cerise ribbon fell out of the chest, falling on the floor in a heap, and Cal rushed to pick up the gorgeous material.

“I think I know how we can disguise you, Cal,” Logan simpered. They could practically see the gears turning in his head, his attention now focused on a chest beside the open one. He opened the smaller trunk, which contained beautiful jewelry and accessories. “Thank Calypso Draven’s nobles have such exquisite taste.” Pulling a few bracelets from it, Logan stepped back, surveying the items the both of them had acquired and looked at Cal, shoving the dress and bracelets into their arms. “Try this on.”

“For a someone as serious as you, you seem to know a lot about fashion,” they remarked, already shoving their pants off. They knew one of them had taken their shirt off to treat their wound, and besides, it’s not like Logan wouldn’t turn around anyways- which the robot had indeed already done. They pulled off their shirt, throwing the dress over them quickly, eager to see how the dress fit them. Around their waist they wrapped the cerise ribbon, tying it in the back. They slipped on the bracelets and told Logan he could turn back around. 

He studied them, more focused on how well they would stay hidden rather than how the garment fit like a glove, giving them the appearance of a feminine being, a radical change from their previous experience. “It’s very flattering, Calrex. The guards should easily fall for this. Shall I acquire Roman for you?” Cal shrugged, nodding as their hands roamed over the soft fabric, marveling at its beauty. It had certainly been a long time since they had even _dared_ to wear something so pretty, so untouched, so perfect.

It was a rogue feeling, one that dreamed of wearing dresses and slacks and jerseys and slips, unconcerned who thought what about them. But as they grew older, they had learned to forget these childish fantasies. They couldn’t afford wearing what they wanted, not if they wanted to stay hidden for as long as possible before Draven eventually found them again and they had to run for their life.

They had worn a dress once in their lifetime, a grey sleeveless one that tightened around their waist and puffed out slightly as though they wore a crinoline underneath. The best part of it was that no one had called them a girl or a tranny or anything except Calrex. That day, they had felt weightless, able to conquer anything. Pity the euphoria had ended so quickly.

With a start, they realized Roman had entered the room, Logan likely taking his place as copilot. The prince was mumbling to himself, carrying the bag they had noticed in the kitchen area. “Roman?” they asked, unsure what he was doing. The prince looked up, startled, and proceeded to gasp dramatically.

“Oh, I didn’t know Calypso herself was alive and well! You look absolutely stunning, by the way, but you shall look _ravishing_ as soon as I’m done with you,” Roman said, smiling wickedly as he whipped out what looked like an eyeliner pencil from the bag. Cal inwardly groaned, ready to have their eye poked out or worse.

The prince got to work quickly, constantly swiping his blond hair back as he grabbed foreign objects from his bag, twisting open tubes and popping the lids off of jars. At long last, he stepped back to survey his work, and gave a satisfied sigh. “Take a look,” he said, pulling out a mirror from the seemingly bottomless bag. They take the mirror gratefully and held up it.

Cal nearly dropped it in surprise, taking in their transformed face. No longer were they the scrubby outlaw on the run for far too long, but an untouched person who had never seen poverty or war. They now took on the visage of a dainty damsel who had not yet met with death’s grim grip, their cheeks full and lips pursed, ready for the sweet taste of love. Roman had highlighted their cheekbones, covering their scars with mounds of concealer, and added dark grey eyeshadow to give their eyes more depth. They patted their cheek, seeing their reflection copy them, confirming they were real and not some illusion Roman had whipped up like magic.

They turned to Roman, smirking smugly. “How do you do this? This is incredible!” they gushed happily, ready to woo _all_ the guards and have a good time. Roman shared their content, and the two began to exchange make-up tips they’d garnered over the years as Patton’s voice came over the intercom.

“Hey, kiddos, we’ve landed! Me, Anxiety, and Logan are all ready, so come on out whenever you guys are ready!” Cal hid a snicker, hearing Logan correct Patton’s grammar as the intercom shut off.

“I guess we join them,” Cal said, handing the mirror back to Roman. “Let’s go have some fun!” they cheered, exiting the room, promptly getting lost before Roman led them to the docking bay, where they rejoined the others.

“Oh, dear Calypso, Calrex, you look wonderful!” Patton squealed, running to hug his adorable child. They thanked him, grinning gratefully. “Right, let’s go do whatever Logan planned!” he cried with excitement as the robot took a calming breath, ready to go off on the Drisine for already forgetting the plan. Cal watched them, a bittersweet smile on their face. It had been a while since they’d witnessed scenes like this, been apart of scenes like this. Deep down, they hoped this sensation blooming in their belly like a rose at midnight would last, that maybe they could go on more adventures than just this one.

  
  


Lord Condor Finch’s Royal Bank of Taxes and Tributes was exactly like its name: huge, overzealous, and an obvious candidate for mockery and tomfoolery. Though imposing at first sight, the overuse of gold leaf was laughable, the guards sleeping were they stood was pathetic, and the amount of currency it actually contained in comparison to other banks the group had been to put a beggar’s tin cup to shame. It was perfect for the heist.

“So I know you already explained, everything, but why _this_ bank of all places? I’ve been on the downlow for a while now, but even I know how crappy it is behind the scenes,” Cal was saying as they hiked up the long flight of cracked marble steps that led to the entrance.

“Easy,” Logan began. “Lord Finch is a moron. Thusly, his security systems are vastly inferior to others I have encountered. Besides, he taxes his people needlessly, some to the point of starvation, so by distributing the wealth within the vaults, not only might we save some lives, but the common people will begin to take our side, benefitting us in the future,” he explained as they finally reached the end of the stairs.

Anxiety bent over, panting for breath. “Give me a second, okay?” he wheezed, catching what little air remained in his lungs. Patton fussed over him, offering a canteen of water from his satchel. Anxiety shook his head, saying he was fine.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Roman said, fixing the lapels of his white suit jacket. The copper on the goggles perched above his ever-present flower crown shone brightly, nearly blinding Cal as the prince turned in the sunlight. “The steampunk aesthetic belongs to Remy, and to Remy alone.”

With that said, the group moved. Cal stuck with Roman; their jobs were to distract the tellers. If the Generals broke loose, Cal had a blaster hidden within the handbag they clutched nervously. They were hoping for chaos.

Roman laced his arm with theirs, giving his most charming smile. “My dearest sister-”

“We don’t look anything alike, try again.”

“Roman glared at Cal. “My dearest _friend_ ,” he started again, “what a lovely day for us to go to the bank to make a withdrawal!” Cal sighed, raising an eyebrow. “Quiet, I’m a great actor, I just have unique methods.”

“You can say _that_ again,” they mumbled under their breath. Roman playfully whacked Cal’s arm, huffing in exasperation. Cal’s attention, however, was already gone as they entered the massive bank. Despite its shady purpose, the bank was a magnificent sight to behold.

The golden wall stretched up for what must have been forever, curving into a domed ceiling, where a chandelier made of thousands of crystals glittered, reflecting rainbow patterns onto the walls. Dozens of little stalls were lined up against the walls, all leading towards a single door in the back of the room, which undoubtedly led to the vaults. Above the door hung a ginormous portrait of the irascible Lord Finch in all his glory, sporting a cape of loon feathers and too many medals pinned across his chest like some feeble attempt to give credence to his leadership abilities.

Looking around, there were only two or three tellers. Cal grinned. This would be easy. Roman grinned, too, sharing a knowing glance with the pirate. “I’ll take the mermaid,” the prince said, gesturing subtly to a fair maiden currently combing through aegean and peacock locks, cream seashells poking out in some places, looking bored out of her mind. “Can you handle the other two?” Cal glanced at the tellers on the opposite side, seeing a merman who definitely had to be the mermaid’s brother or something and a young girl whose eyes were the color of amethysts. They nodded, a wicked grin forming on their lips.

“I got this,” they said, hurrying off to the neighboring tellers. “Good morning,” they greeted, smiling sweetly as they approached the tellers. The merman stood at attention immediately, jolting awake as the young woman waved cheerfully. Cal headed for the woman. She would prove to be more a challenge. “My mother recently made a deposit here, but she would like to withdraw the amount. She’s fallen terribly ill, you see, and needs the money to pay for her medication,” Cal alleged, batting their eyelashes seductively. They could practically see the young lady melt at the charms they had picked up from the streets over the years.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, miss,” the woman said, speaking as though she had a bag of marbles stuffed in her mouth. “What was her name?” she asked. Cal swore under her breath. “What was that?”

“Nothing. Her name is, uh… Cassandra. Cassandra Ildris,” Cal offered stoically, swallowing the lump in their throat as the young woman brought up a hologram, pressing a dainty finger to the screen to scroll through a long list of names written in electric blue. The young woman furrowed her eyebrows.

“Hmm, I don’t see your mother’s name on the list. Are you sure she made a deposit here?” the teller asked. Cal nodded insistently.

“Perhaps she used one of her other names. She’s been married twice now, including my father,” Cal explained. “If you just check all names under Cassandra, it would likely be fastest,” they said, leaning down slightly, watching the teller’s gaze glance down before meeting with Cal’s eyes again. They smirked mentally. _Too easy._

“All right, but I’ll have to ask Damien to help me. I’m not that good with technology,” the teller confessed, laughing nervously. “Damien, could you come over here and help me?” Cal grinned. Perfect. Glancing upward, they saw a small wooden beam painted white to match the walls. If they aimed just right, they could bring it down and trap the tellers. It might not be exactly what Logan had planned, but it would certainly be more fun.

The moment the merman called Damien entered the stall, however, a shout came from the other side of the spacious room. Cal turned to see Roman back away from the stall, the mermaid saying something unintelligible, waving her hands furiously. With a burst of mist, she cast a spell. The result nearly made Cal choke on their laughter.

Roman shrieked as he felt his now enlarged head, nearly double the size it had been before. At that moment, Anxiety chose to run in, who took one look at the enchanted Roman and said, “Oh, my God, it’s finally big enough to fit your ego!” He fell to his knees, laughing hysterically. Cal soon found themself unable to contain their own giggles, laughing as well as Roman began panicking.

“Um, _help_!” he cried.

“What did you do to Faerin?” the merman asked, running out of the stall towards the prince, who immediately began backing away, walking around like a drunk man as he tried to hold his head upright. “What did he do to you, my princess?” he asked the mermaid as Cal watched on. The other young teller ran out from her stall, joining the merpeople as they exchanged words, Damien’s eyes soon boring into Roman’s. “You will pay, you vicious fiend!”

“Oh, I should probably help him,” Cal mumble under their breath, pulling out their blaster. “Eat crystal, motherfucker!” they cried, firing the gun up at the chandelier. They didn’t know what to expect, but an ominous rumbling emanating for the ceiling was hopefully a good sign. From the corner of their eyes, they noticed Anxiety rush towards Roman, grabbing his arm and getting him away from the tellers and whatever Cal had initiated. They glanced up to see a myriad of spider cracks running across the ceiling, just barely touching the chandelier. “Hmm. That’s probably not good,” they said, beginning to head towards the back of the room, where Anxiety and Roman were headed.

They took one step forward and heard a resounding boom echo through the interior. They gulped, eyes widening, and bolted for the earthling and prince, not one second by their side before they heard a loud crash, turning to see the chandelier hitting the floor, the crystals smashing into smithereens as the brass structure holding it all together pinned down the tellers, trapping them all together. From behind them, Cal heard someone enter the room.

“Nicely down, you two- dear Calypso, Roman, what did you do?” Logan said, a large, bulky creature Cal assumed to be Patton following behind, carrying several medium-sized satchels, the coins creasing in the fabric. Roman whimpered softly, embarrassed. Anxiety rubbed Roman’s back reassuringly, calming the prince down. “We should probably leave,” Logan remarked, eyeing the enraged merman chanting in a foreign tongue.

The others agreed and they ran for one of the tall gilded windows by the door, where they had formerly agreed they would exit, as Logan knew the guards would more than likely block their original entrance. The creature known as Patton leapt first, his body weight easily shattering the glass panes. With a whoop, Anxiety jumped out, pulling some sort of martial arts move as he dove out the window, rolling as he hit the ground. Cal shot their blaster once more, firing randomly at a wall before diving out the window after the prince and the robot had clambered through awkwardly.

“FUCK YEAH!” Cal shouted giddily, a wide grin plastered across their face. The others rolled their eyes lightheartedly. Their mission, however, was not over yet. They still had to get away. Their grin grew, showing off sharp fangs, as they raised their blaster, squinting at a couple nearby trees as they jogged after the gang, nearly tripping over their feet. With a laugh, they fired a final time, directly hitting the trees, setting them aflame. Immediately, the nearby guards, all dressed to the nines in their saffron red and midnight blue uniforms and shiny black boots, ran to the fire, panicking. “That should distract them for a while,” Cal whispered-shouted to their companions, who cheered as they ran around trees, jumped over small fences and walls, and avoided any more destruction.

They all sprinted towards the nearby wooded marsh, tall pines sprouted up, outstretched towards the emerald sky dying down to a husky, smokey blue. As they reached the brackish waters, the sounds of confusion fading away, the water began seeping into their boots, the thick fog that hung in the air suffocating them, the setting sun blinding them.

“Yeesh, Logan, why do you always pick the worst places for us to hide the ship?” Roman grumbled, still holding his head so he wouldn’t fall over like a newborn. Logan simply shook his head, not bothering with a response. They continued trekking around the edge of the shallow parts of the marsh, heading deeper into the wildlands where they had hidden their ship. “Shouldn’t we see it by now?” Roman asked as a soft whisper cut him off.

“He-llo?” a voice called from all around, as though the voice wasn’t coming from just one place at one time, but rather every place at every conceivable moment. The crew froze, all looking in different directions. Cal glanced at the water a few feet away, where the water was much deeper than where they stood, and shrieked when they saw a pair of yellow eyes watching them from underneath the surface. For a moment they thought it was Draven before realizing he would never go anywhere _near a marsh_ , too afraid of getting his precious cape wet.

“Who are yo-u?” the voice asked, echoing across the otherwise silent swampland. Cal stared down those eyes, convinced the voice belonged to the body that held those eyes. “Who are yo-u?” they repeated. The voice sounded familiar. If they closed their eyes, they could almost picture-

“Cassandra?” Cal spoke aloud. The eyes in the water were unwavering. By now, the others had noticed the yellow eyes, too, and were coming up behind Cal, ready to fight off whatever foe was calling out to them.

“Who-o is Ca-ssandra?” the voice said as the eyes rose slightly, revealing slivers of a face soaked in water. “Who are yo-u?”

Cal stepped forward, cringing as they felt the water and dead pine needles spill into their boots, soaking their socks. “My name is Calrex. Cassandra… Cassandra was a friend of mine. You sound like her,” they told the eyes. The eyes seemed satisfied with the response, blinking slowly as they registered the answer.

“My na-me is Mi-la,” the sighing voice replied. Without warning, the eyes leapt into the air, bringing with them a face, body, and mind. Before the astounded group floated a young girl, skin blue as the water she lived in, eyes wide and unblinking. Water droplets coated her body, clinging to her skin as though it didn’t want to leave, forming a dress that covered her like a ball gown, the water becoming long, draping sleeves and a high collar. Her sweeping hair that spilled past the small of her back was made of reeds swaying in the breeze; in fact, her entire body swayed as though she was made of liquids herself. “Yo-ur not suppo-sed to be he-re,” Mila said, waving a single finger childishly to emphasis her point.

“Our spaceship is here,” Cal told the water nymph. “Do you know where it is?” they asked, having a feeling the nymph did indeed know the location of their hidden ship. Mila nodded shyly.

“I kept it hi-dden for yo-u,” she whispered, drawing both her hands close. “ _Ingare nadia_ ,” she chanted quietly as the water began leaping up just behind her, dancing like bolts of energy. As the water parted, fragments of cool white metal appeared. With a giggle, Mila lifted her hands into the air as if praying, and the water enveloping the ship did the same, raising the bulky vehicle in a bubble. Logan stepped forward, ready to get away from the chaos they had created at the bank. Mila suddenly whipped towards him, throwing up a wall of transparent water to block him from continuing forward.

“Mila, you want something from us, right?” Cal asked, remembering previous encounters with water nymphs that had not ended well. Mila nodded, her lips parting into a youthful smile.

“Tw-o things,” the nymph said, holding up the equivalent number of fingers. “One, a ki-ss from the pri-nce,” she said, blushing as she glanced at Roman, who flashed her a charming smile. “Tw-o, an apology for hur-ting Fae-rin... She’s my only fri-end.” Mila ducked her head.

“It doesn’t seem to bad an offering. I say we take it,” Cal proposed, turning to the others. Logan shrugged, as did Roman. The creature known as Patton squealed, indicating an agreement. Anxiety, however, stepped forward.

“Undo whatever spell was cast on Roman and I’ll be your friend,” he offered. In a more gentle tone, he added, “It’s got to be lonely, out here all the time, when nobody ever stops by or says hello.” Cal’s brow raised. They’d have to ask about that later.

“I’ll be your friend, too! It would be an honor to share a friendship with such a magnificent young lady such as yourself,” Roman commented. Patton barked, agreeing with the earthling and the prince. Logan sighed, muttering something along the lines of, “I’ll offer companionship as well.” They all look expectantly at Cal.

“What, do you really think I _wouldn’t_ want to be friends with someone like Mila? She’s cool enough, I wanna be friends with a water nymph,” Cal remarked, turning back towards a smiling Mila. “So, what do you say? We accept your offering, what about ours?” Mila lifted her yellow eyes ever so slightly and grinned, nodding.

“I would li-ke more fri-ends,” she mumbled. She drew closer to the group, her feet barely skimming the surface of the marsh, until she floated in front of Cal. Mila shyly extended a hand. Cal grinned back at the little nymph, grabbing the hand and shaking it firmly. “Ke-ep your end of the de-al first,” she said as she drew her graceful hand back.

Cal glanced over at Roman, who stumbled forward as Anxiety shoved him forward, the shadows on his face just barely concealing his smirk. “Go on and kiss the girl,” he said as Roman’s eyes lit up at the phrase.

“Oh, I love that movie with the mermaid!” Roman exclaimed as he neared the nymph. “Perhaps we can show it to Calrex tonight?” he inquired, pursing his lips as he batted his eyelashes.

“Only if you get us out of the mess you caused,” Anxiety replied. Roman scoffed, but turned towards Mila, who had sunk halfway into the water to be eye level with the dashing prince. Flashing her his trademark grin, the prince leaned over and pecked the young girl on the cheek as she blushed, giggling in a manner that echoed across the marsh.

“I apologize most deeply, my dear Mila, for hurting your friend. Do accept my most sincere and heartfelt apology,” he said, bowing deeply. Mila laughed, a tinkling sound that reminded Cal of fairies.

“It was fu-nny hearing it from the wa-ter,” she mused. “Th-ey tried to mi-mic it, yo-u flirting with Fae-rin and fai-ling.” Mila turned towards the others, whose interests were now piqued with curiosity. “He to-ld her, ‘Yo-ur eyes shine like the mo-on on a cry-stal ni-ght,’ ‘Yo-u’re the mo-st beau-tiful sea crea-ture I’ve met.’” Mila burst into laughter, clutching her stomach as Cal glanced at Roman.

“You called her a sea creature? No wonder she cast a spell on you!” they uttered, shaking their head in exasperation. Roman spluttered, unsure how he could spin some sort of witty response from this humiliation. Mila sighed.

“Yo-u kept your bar-gain, now I ke-ep mine,” she proclaimed as she throw her hands up in the sky, waving them as though she was signaling some passing ship. “ _Vocifere, caban!_ ” With the enchantment cast, a cloud of smoke encapsulated Roman, dissipating to reveal the mermaid’s spell had been reversed.

Roman clapped both hands over his face. “Oh, my gorgeous head is back to normal! Anxiety, do I look okay? Because a prince has got to slay,” he asked. Anxiety laughed, disguising it with a cough.

“You look fine no matter what’s happened to you, don’t worry,” he reassured the prince. “Anyways, Mila, thank you so much for your help,” he thanked the nymph. “We might not be able to come back for a while, but we’ll try to return as soon as we can.” The nymph smiled happily, waving. The wall of water blocking Logan suddenly dropped down, scaring the robot. With a few more thanks and a couple vociferations of the marsh water soaking their feet, the group finally clambered onto the ship. 

As the door shut, Cal swore they heard Mila say, “Go-od luck, Pi-rate. Fi-ght and pro-sper.” Perhaps it had just been the wind.

“Alright, kiddos, let’s get out of here before the guards find us!” Patton said, morphing back as he threw the heavy satchels off his shoulders, heading for the cockpit. Cal felt a breath of relief rush out of them as they followed the Drisine. They’d done it. Nobody had gotten (fatally) injured, no guards were firing at them as the ship started up its engines, and they had actually done something.

“What a heist,” Anxiety sighed, leaning over the copilot’s chair, dangling his arms in front of Roman’s face.

“That was certainly an ordeal,” Logan huffed, settling onto a stool as Patton skillfully guided the craft into the air, where they could easily see the miniscule figures of guards and peasants all grouped around a hole in one of the bank’s back walls. A pile of golden coins shimmered on the ground, spilling from the vault inside the building. “Hmm, looks like the commoners are taking advantage of Lord Finch’s private income,” the robot noted.

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink or two,” Cal stated. “Calypso knows after all this, it’s gonna take at least seven Harvey Wallbangers to forget the sight of Roman’s head double its size.” Lighthearted laughter overtook the cockpit as Roman groaned, wishing he, too, to forget what would likely be held against him for the rest of his life.

“Let’s just head over to Remy’s already,” the prince pleaded.

“Alright, I’m setting course for there now,” Patton said. “Boy, I won’t forget that adventure of a lifetime. And Cal got to be a part of it!” he squealed, his smile practically crushing his cheeks. Cal quirked up a corner of their, the feeling of apprehension beginning to sink in.

“If you don’t mind,” they began nervously, “I’d like to keep having more adventures with you guys. At least I wouldn’t be bored.” A silence fell and immediately Cal knew they said the wrong thing.

Patton squealed even louder, confusing the outlaw as to how the windows had yet to break from the high-pitched noises. “Oh, we would love that!” he exclaimed as he got up from the pilot’s seat to hug Cal tightly, Roman huffing as he took over Patton’s duties to fly the ship. Though first surprised at the kind gesture, Cal felt themself relax, awkwardly wrapping their arms around the Drisine to hug him back. The warmth that followed was something they remembered feeling a long time ago, when they were still an innocent child.

Yeah, they could definitely get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woot woot woot our first adventure as a famILY!
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>  
> 
> also APs really suck. If they could, like, not exist, that would be _fine_ , thank you very much.


	9. From Now On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cal and the crew return to _Sleeping Scars_ , where Cal begins to open up on their mysterious past.
> 
> TW: lots of cursing, mentions of death and injuries, implied rape, mentions of alcohol and getting drunk

It was a fun ride back to Remy’s. Cal refused to take off their attire for the time being, wanting this feeling of youth to last just a bit longer, adding a dash of wine-colored lipstick to complete their ensemble. As the familiar planet grew closer on the pilot’s dashboard, a comfortable silence fell over the group.

“So, how do you guys know Remy?” Cal asked, curious as to how the steampunk became so close with the outlaws. Side glances were traded, hinting at a story Cal was willing to hear. “Come on, tell me!” they wheedled, pouting.

“It’s a... story, to say the least,” Patton sighed, running a hand through his hair. Cal shrugged. “Well, I guess we do have time.” He gestured for Cal to come closer, so they picked up their stool and waddled with it between their legs, unwilling to properly stand and waste their energy on those sort of activities. Logan huffed, not seeing the necessity of recounting past adventures when there was no way to re-experience them for oneself.

“Don’t forget all the juicy details,” Cal said, their eyes shining with excitement.

“Alright, kiddo, calm yourself before you fall of your chair,” Patton warned, pointing at the transparent floor, where Cal’s stool was tipped so far over it would take but a breeze to blow them over. Cal made a sound of surprise, righting their chair as they thanked the paternal shapeshifter. “I don’t really remember when we first went to Remy’s. I _do_ remember the first time xie talked with us, though,” Patton laughed, eyes brimming with distant memories he wished he could share with Calrex.

“Wasn’t it just after Anxiety joined our crew?” Roman interjected, finally bored with playing with Anxiety’s hands, which rested just in front of his face as the being the hands belonged to slumped against the chair, tuckered out from the heist. Patton hummed, his eyes glancing up as he tried to remember if Roman’s statement was true.

“I believe it was,” Logan added. “Correct me if I’m wrong- though I do not believe that will be a problem- I recall Anxiety was still rather distant with us, and Patton decided to make a stop at _Sleeping Stars_ , hoping to cheer Anxiety up and prove he could trust us.” Cal noted how stiff Anxiety’s shoulders were, and caught Roman’s eye, jerking their head towards the sullen human. The prince nodded, pulling Anxiety’s hands close to his chest, massaging them with his fingertips. Slowly, the emo’s shoulder relaxed once more as Cal tuned in once more to the story Logan was telling. “...Remy approached us, interested in the song that Anxiety was singing.” The robot turned towards the human. “What song was it again? I apologize, I must have deleted that data to increase my data storage,” Logan inquired.

“It was ‘Welcome to the Black Parade’ by My Chemical Romance,” Anxiety mumbled. Logan thanked him and continued.

“As Anxiety was intoxicated beyond belief-”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that I can’t hold my beer! Blame genetics!” Anxiety complained, accidently wapping Roman’s face, who shrieked at his precious visage being damaged. Cal sniggered.

“Quiet! _I_ am the orator of this narrative, not you,” Logan ordered, straightening the glasses he had yet to take off from the bank robbery. He cleared his throat. “As I was previously saying, Anxiety was rather intoxicated, and thusly had little control over his volume. I suspect Remy heard us and came over to investigate. At first, we were all quite confused as to why the vivacious steampunk we’d learned earlier to be the owner was approaching us, perhaps to throw us out for creating such a commotion.”

Patton nearly jumped out of his seat to interject. “And then Remy came over and ogled us for a while before Logan freaked out and demanded to know why xie were watching us!” the shapeshifter giggled, recalling Logan’s expressions from the incident. Logan huffed in frustration.

“I did _not_ ‘freak out’, as you say. I am a highly advanced AI unit and am not capable of producing emotions. I simply wanted to deescalate the situation before xie kicked us out,” Logan argued, crossing his arms in annoyance. Anxiety rolled his eyes at the monologue. “To get back on track, I asked Remy why xie were observing us, and xie came up and sat down in our booth, resting xir head in xir palm,” Logan narrated with a stone cold face. “Xie asked what Anxiety was singing, to which he replied-”

“‘The best goddamn song you’ll ever hear, fucker!’” Roman quoted, cutting off the robot who let out a groan of irritation as Cal threw their head back, cackling as they smacked their hands together, thoroughly satisfied with the storytelling so far.

“Let’s listen to me, how about that? Remember who’s telling the story?” Logan asked as he pursed his lips. Cal could tell he was trying his best not to murder the prince right then and there. The AI composed himself again, remembering he would have witnesses. “As I was _going_ to say, Anxiety replied with ‘the best song you’ll ever hear’- no, Roman, I am _not_ adding the swear words in. Naturally, Remy, being Remy, asked to hear the whole song, which Anxiety happily did. He somehow managed to clamber onto of the table and scream it at the top of his lungs. Remy was entertained, to say the least, and announced that Anxiety was xir favorite kid. To make a long story short, xie ended up kidnapping Anxiety to the back room and forcing him to try on old clothes of Remy’s that no longer fit xem. He looks rather flattering with make-up, I must say.”

“Mmm, sounds like Remy to pull that sort of shit,” Cal mused, shaking their head. “I feel sorry for you, Anxiety. It’s always traumatizing to meet Remy,” they joked. Patton hollered, his cheery disposition finally cracking Logan and making him flash a wavering smile at the Drisine.

As the ship sped through galaxy systems, the crew made small talk until Roman asked, “Cal, how do you know Remy?” They chuckled.

“Let’s just keep it short and say I like to scare people, and Remy has a banshee scream,” Cal told them, recalling the incident of how they met Remy. “I spent so many galleons trying to replace the shot glasses.” Patton laughed, evidently knowing what Cal was talking about.

“Hey, kiddos, we’re about to arrive, so get settled before Roman falls on his face again,” Patton reminded them. Roman gasped at Patton’s betrayal as Anxiety muffled a snicker. Judging by their reactions, it probably happened often.

“That was one time!” Roman claimed. Logan raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve failed to secure yourself for landing thirty-nine times now,” Logan interjected as Roman huffed angrily. “I hardly count that as ‘one time’, unless you have a different counting system than me?” Roman shook his head, falling into a grumpy mood.

“I have an _image_ to keep up, thank you very much! I’m a prince, through and through, no matter how clumsy I am!” Roman proclaimed, sighing loudly. Cal and Anxiety covered their sniggers with a cough, finding some sort of amusement in the prince’s humiliation.

A comfortable silence fell over the group as the stars raced past them, time and space bending to their urge to drown the crashing adrenaline in liquor and drunken laughter. At long last, the familiar black and white skies came into view and Cal silently cheered, ready to waste about half of the revenue they’d gained in the little adventure on Levian. Patton geared up the shields on the ship as they slipped into the atmosphere loaded with security that was no match for the Sanders Yersinia.

  
  


Remy, fortunately, had gone on another escapade on some exotic planet, where xie were sure to woo a lucky local. That meant the poor bartender who had to deal with intoxicated patrons for a living would only let in those Remy considered ‘friends.’ Though the term, in Remy’s mind, was applied rather broadly, it was still a much smaller group of patrons than the normal traffic of _Sleeping Stars_. They had already shed much of their disguises so that they could be recognized, and were waved in almost immediately upon providing their names.

They chose a booth in the far corner, close to the gnarled tree that crawled up the wall like an old man hobbling down a cobblestone street. The bartender noticed the frequent visitors and waved, already preparing their usual orders. They came over and handed out the tall glasses: Cal received a Harvey Wallbanger; Roman, a frothy red drink that sloshed dangerously close to the rim of the cup; Anxiety, a sparkling, fizzy liquid that smelled suspiciously like flowers for some reason; and Patton, a cup of milk and a cookie.

“I’ll tell Remy you guys stopped by,” the bartender told them as they hurried back to the counter, several patrons already waving their empty glasses towards them.

“Thanks, Joan!” Cal called to them, already wolfing down their drink. They slammed an empty glass on the table with a satisfied burp. “Damn, I love these things,” they mused as Roman nearly choked on his own drink at the sight.

Anxiety followed Cal’s example and chugged his drink, spilling most of it and let out a whoop. “That stuff’s so hard to swallow…” He glanced at Roman. “Don’t even think about making an innuendo out of that, Princey,” he warned.

Logan huffed, displeased. As a robot, he was unable to drink. Cal assumed he was likely the one to deal with the drunkards. “Please don’t make me play babysitter again,” he pleaded, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he shut his eyes.

“I’m getting another Wallbanger!” Cal scrambled out of their seat, nearly tripping over the lanky legs as they rushed for the counter, slamming a golden coin on the shiny surface as they ordered another glass. “Stupid fuckin’ metabolism, can’t even enjoy the good shit without getting tipsy,” they slurred. The bartender, after attending to patrons who had previously ordered drinks, slid the refilled glass towards Cal, who grabbed it eagerly as they ran back to the booth, magically not spilling any of the drink.

This time, they sipped their drink at intervals, already feeling the room spin. “Calypso, I wish I could hold my liquor,” they said. “But, hey, it’s much more fun when I’m drunk and you all get to tell me about it when I wake up later with a brutal hangover!” they cheered, smiling lopsidedly. Patton offered them a grin as he munched contently on his cookie, appearing like a little child as he bit into the chocolate chips and baked flour.

“Tell us, Cal, how did you end up getting on Draven’s bad side? Normally people just become his puppets and he doesn’t have to worry about them,” Roman asked, waving his hands enthusiastically. Cal took a long sip of the Harvey Wallbanger, taking their sweet time.

“I dunno, he’s the asshole who likes fucking up people’s lives, isn’t he?” they grumbled, shaking an angry fist at the sky. Patton said something about language, but Cal couldn’t hear it. They were tipsy and had no time for a filter in the retelling of their dramatic origin story. “I have no shitting idea why in the name of Calypso the universe chose to bestow me with the most tragic backstory in all the universe,” they muttered bitterly. Anxiety downed his second glass and motioned for them to continue.

“Do I have to?” they whined, the liquid in their glass already gone, so soon after their first. Their vision was starting to get blurrier, their speech thicker with the slight accent the others had hardly noticed at first.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Patton said worriedly as Cal waved his concerns away.

“I want to, but I want to just project into your minds instead of having to actually _say_ anything,” they grumbled drunkenly. They coughed, their face marred as they gagged at the aftertaste of their drink. Anxiety barked out a loud laugh, he, too, already feeling the effects of sweet, sweet alcohol. “Fine, I might as well get it over with now before I drink too much and can’t even make a real sentence. It’s real easy for police to know you’re flying drunk when you keep screaming ‘Unicorns have feelings, too!’ at them,” they laughed. Their knees were bouncing rapidly underneath the table. They’d better start now before they drank too much.

“Yeah, you better tell us before I regress into my emo phase,” Anxiety threatened.

“Fine, fine,” they conceded, tipping their head all the way back to drink the final sips of their drink. “Dunno where to start, though. My backstory is too complicated for a drunken ramble.” They hummed, lolling their head back as they thought of a good place to start. “Hmm. I never knew my parents, first thing I remember is running around the orphanage as the Headmx tried to corral us for the weekly adoption day. _Fuckin’ blast, amirite_?” they huffed plaintively.

“Anyways, I grew up in an orphanage, hated the place and the people, yada yada yada, no-one cares about that bullshittery, let’s get into the juicy details- are you going to drink that, Roman?” Cal asked, pointing to a shot of something purple sloshing around in the clear glass. Roman shook his head and Cal grabbed the glass, dunking it immediately with a whoop. “Right. Let’s do this.” They set the empty glass gingerly on the table.

“I was, like, the failure of the orphanage. _Nobody_ would adopt me. It’s sad, yeah, but at least I got food n’ shit. Ooo, there was this _one_ kid, though. I still hate him. His name was something like, oh, what was it.” Cal snapped their fingers, struggling to put name to face. “Caleb, was it? No, he was a spring fling later on. Maybe Cerulean? No, that’s color.” Realization hit their face. “Cato! That’s his name!” They said, slamming their palm flat on the table with a loud bang. Patton paled; Cal noticed this out of the corner of their eyes. “Do you know him, Patton?” Cal asked loudly, definitely beyond their alcohol limit. Patton nodded demurely, flustered. “No way! How do you know that little shit?”

“I… grew up in an orphanage, too,” Patton confessed shyly. “There was another Drisine named Cato there, but I didn’t like him very much. He was always picking on this poor kiddo,” he reminisced as Cal’s eyes blew wide.

“No fucking way! That was me!” they exclaimed excitedly. “Small universe, ain’t it?” A bolt of recognition hit them as they turned suddenly to Patton. “Were you that Drisine named Pattryon?” Patton nodded. “Oh, my Calypso, I knew you! How cool is that?” They flopped contently back into their seat, calming down some. “An’ways, Cato. Little prick who liked putting his fists to good work. I gotta thank him, to be honest. If it weren’t for him, I never would have run away.” Roman tilted his head.

“Fucker tried to kill me,” Cal explained to the shock of the growing audience. Patrons from across the pub who had heard the loud story were clumping together in interest, dragging over bar stools and sitting on the floor, leaning forward as they drank in the eccentric storyteller. By now, Cal had managed to clamber on top of the table, towering over all others in their heeled combat boots. “He didn’t wield a knife too well, though. He tried to stab my heart and ended up stabbing the floor. I’m sure it didn’t appreciate the gesture very much.” A particularly rowdy patron roared with drunken laughter.

“So I kicked the little shit where it counts and got out of there right then and there.” Cal posed proudly, earning applause from their audience. They smiled, waving like a diva at a couple patrons, and spun around, causing their dress to fan out. Cal sighed happily, the blush on their cheeks not just from drunken joy. “I don’t even remember _how_ I did it, all I know is that I was picked by a ship of outlaws who called themselves ‘The Dragon Witches.’” A couple patrons recognized the name and made various remarks, most about how the gang had robbed them of their girlfriends. “Damn right, they raised me, you little shit!” Cal screamed at a patron who had more than a grumble to say about Cal’s foster family.

“Calypso, those were the days,” they reminisced. “Oh, we had so much fun. The captain was the _best_. Gee, I miss Talyn... Sometimes, when I missing the orphanage for Calypso knows why, Talyn would plop their cat in my lap and give me a talking-to. I mean, generally that consisted of a fuck ton of curses, so you see I resemble them, but it was still comforting to hear their words.” Cal smiled wistfully as the audience shook their heads in acquiescence, some wiping away non-existent tears from their eyes.

“And then I met Cassandra Ildris.” Cal’s grin widened bittersweetly. “She was... just amazing. She grew up on the ship and had been Talyn’s favorite up until I showed up (because, let’s be honest, I am _everybody’s_ favorite). At first, we absolutely _hated_ each other. If I saw Cassandra, I would turn around and walk in the other direction after yelling something obscene. I was a fucking dick, lemme tell you,” Cal laughed. “Eventually we had one of those moments where you see things from the other’s perspective and BOOM, baby, we were inseparable.”

“What did you do for free time?” a patron shouted. Cal smirked, hopping off the table and landing on the floor with a heavy thud.

“Robbed bitches who didn’t know gratitude even if it slapped them in their ugly faces,” Cal replied with a flip of their hair. “We never got caught. The rich tend to be too stupid to realize that if a peasant has determination and a chip on their shoulder, you might as well leave the door unlocked at night.” The patrons drank to that, clapping exaggeratedly.

Cal’s smile disappeared, leaving half-glazed eyes and a frown. “Then Draven came.” The pub fell silent at the mention of the ruler’s name. “To this day, I don’t know what we did to piss his royal ass off.” Cal shrugged, sitting on the edge of the table, swinging their legs forlornly. “That day… the heavens were painted crimson like Calypso herself was bleeding. We had celebrated Cassie’s seventeenth birthday. I was fifteen at the time. She looked so pretty in her dress, twirling under the stars in the Observation Deck, like a goddess.” Cal wiped away a tear that had spilled over their eyelids.

“I should’ve known the joy wouldn’t last for long. It never does.”

Cal took a shaky breath. “Draven him-fucking-self stormed our ship with his best soldiers. Half of them were my age; I can still see the fear in their eyes if I focus hard enough. Draven’s an idiot, using kids as his disposable pawns.” They shook their head, blinking away the hot tears threatening to show themselves. “It was a massacre. We put up our best fight, but it was useless. Cassie’s mother was shot through the fuckin’ head right in front of me, protecting her daughter. I’ll never forget the sight of the light leaving her eyes as the blood poured out of her skull, and I sure as _fuck_ won’t forgive ever Draven.” They swallowed thickly, knowing what was coming up in their trip down memory lane.

“I took Cassie’s hand and we ran to the storage bays. We were transporting a shit ton of stuff then, so I thought it would easy to hide among the crates. But Draven found us.” A hush fell over the crowd leaning in their seats to hear what happened next. The tears began falling quickly, streams and rivers down Cal’s cheeks. “I just wish I could have told her how much she meant to me. How much I loved her.” Cal heard their voice crack, covering their mouth to choke back a sob. “Draven ordered some soldier not much older than us to hold me back. I could feel his trembles. That little _fucker_ of a king made me watch as he… he…” Cal shut their eyes, the memory flashing before them. The audience gasped, understanding what Cal couldn’t voice. “He finished by shooting her three times in the heart.” The thick silence fell once more, despair and depravity coating the grief in a wool blanket made of memories.

“I couldn’t stop screaming,” Cal whimpered, wiping away more tears with the back of their hand. “I blacked out or something. I woke up who knows how long after in a small escape pod. Talyn was piloting. They told me they found me passed out over Cassie. My hands were stained with her blood… Talyn told me they had no idea what happened to Draven and the soldier.” Cal squeezed their hands on the edge of the table where the crew of the Sanders Yersinia was watching them with full attention, utterly engrossed in Cal’s story.

“I told Talyn like the dramatic motherfucker I am I was going to kill Draven, or at least overthrow him so he couldn’t destroy any more lives.” Some of the audience members cheered, shaking their fists in the air. “That dickbag needs to be taught what happens when you bite one too many. ‘Cause, bitch, I. bite. _back_.” A raucous cheer went up from the crowd. “So who wants to know what happened after?” All but a few patrons raised their hands eagerly, ready to devour more of Cal’s fierce words.

“I got Talyn to drop me off on Aeolos and I headed to the Infernal Havens. Y’all don’t need to know the details, but let’s say I did what I had to do to survive.” Several patrons nodded, coming from similar histories. “Sucks fucking dick, living on the streets, but, hey, it made me who I am today.” Cal hopped off the table once more. “At least I can say that if you piss me off, you’re going to say hello to my combat boots. They like meeting new people,” they joked bitterly, still on edge on from the narrative known as their life. “A couple years ago, I started noticing wanted posters for me. Damn Calypso, the prices on my head! I half-want to turn myself in, if only to get a piece of the reward money. Course, then I won’t get to Draven’s ass, so that’s out of the question, ha.” Anxiety laughed along with Cal, snorting at their dry humor.

“People started recognizing me from the posters, so I got the fuck out of Aeolos. Stole a ship and wandered about for a bit, nicking what I could. I stumbled upon this little gem of a pub soon enough, met Remy, and so began my career as an outlaw.” Cal bowed theatrically as the crowd burst into applause as though they had witnessed the best show of their lives. Cal collapsed in their seat at the booth.

“So, that’s about it,” Cal said simply, swiping Anxiety’s long-forgotten drink and downing it with a smirk. The group stared at them, still trying to process half of the story they’d listened to. Cal raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Don’t everybody talk at once,” they mumbled.

“That’s… wow. I thought _I_ had an angsty backstory,” Anxiety said. “I was wrong.” Cal shrugged. “I would offer sympathy, but seeing as I have no soul…”

“Eh, it’s fine, I don’t have one either. ‘Sides, I hate sympathy. Got enough of it to last me a lifetime from the Headmx back at the orphanage. I’m sick of hearing ‘I’m sorry’ by now,” Cal stated, handing Joan the bartender a couple gold coins to pay for their drinks with a friendly, fanged grin.

Their eyes turned thoughtful. “I do miss Talyn, but it’s best that I’m gone from their life. I was putting them in danger. I hope they’re doing well…” they mused wistfully, sighing. “I really wish I could see Cassandra again. Just, you know, see her smile and her eyes and her everything, and be able to tell her how fucking much I loved her.” Cal paused, swirling an unused straw in the empty shot glass mournfully. “I promised her the night before she died that I would stand up and fight next time I was in danger. But when push came to shove, I was a _fucking coward_ ,” Cal scoffed ruefully.

“I’ve tried to sneak into Draven’s palace a couple times, but I’ve never been able to… y’know, do it.” Cal emphasized the unspoken action by drawing a line across their throat. I don’t want to fall to his level, killing just for the fuckin’ sake of something. I couldn’t do that to Cassie, or her mother, or Talyn, or anybody else who didn’t manage to slip out of Draven’s cold-hearted grasp.” They sighed, resting their head on the table.

“It’s probably just the alcohol talking by now,” Roman began, “but I think we should overthrow Draven.” Logan opened his mouth to start arguing against a certain doom, but Roman cut him off. “Think about it. He’s absolutely horrid, he doesn’t deserve to be king, he’s murdered dozens, if not _hundreds_ , of innocent people, he’s ruined all of our lives, and... other stuff,” Roman rattled off, ticking a finger for each point against the deceitful ruler.

“We know the palace like the back of our hands,” Patton chimed in, his face flushed with alcoholic excitement. “And Anxiety and Logan, you can plan the stuff, since you’re really good at that!” Cal nodded eagerly, adrenaline lethargically picking up pace as it coursed through their veins.

“Any endeavors will surely end in destruction and countless deaths,” Logan countered. “We would verily lose our lives and put innocent civilians in danger.” Cal snorted.

“As if Draven wasn’t already doing that. Besides, who cares if I die? No-one will mourn me if I fall victim to a corrupt regime playing with everybody like they’re puppets on a string. At least I’ll die for a cause. At least I’ll die knowing I did something, instead of letting somebody else step up for me. We don’t even know if there’ll _be_ somebody else to do the job for us. If we don’t step up now, who will? Who else has fury for blood, has vengeance for a heart, has justice for a brain?” Cal swallowed thickly, flames burning in their eyes.

“I promised Cassie. I promised her I would fight. Well, guess what? This is me fighting. This is me standing up for what I know is right. This is me fulfilling my promise. I met you guys only a few weeks ago. You don’t have to come. But I’m going no matter what. I’m done hiding in the dark, waiting for somebody else to be the light. This time, I’ll burn so fucking bright, they’ll mistake me for the sun!” Cal slammed their hands on the table fervently, jumping to their feet.

Logan blinked, dumbfounded at Cal’s sudden impassioned speech as the others looked at them, determination written across their faces. “Well, you’ve convinced me,” Patton said, joining Cal on his feet. Roman stood silently, a grim expression on his face.

“I sat through an entire war just watching people die, watching brothers cradle their dead sisters, watching doctors breaking down after failing to save another civilian, watching buildings crumble after suicide bombers pulled the trigger. It’s been far too long since I’ve stood on my own two legs and walked into battle,” Anxiety said, grinning lopsidedly. “Let’s bring down this motherfucker.”

Cal turned towards the robot, who had yet to say a word. They reached out a solemn hand, willing Logan to take it. “Come on, Logan. You know we can’t do it without you,” they begged. The robot closed his eyes, sighing.

“You’re not going to be convinced any other way, are you?” he asked. Cal shook their head vehemently, urging the AI to realize how much he was needed. Logan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he muttered. Though he seemed reluctant to take part in what could very well be the last adventure of his lifetime, Cal could detect that slightest hint of enthusiasm in the robot’s tone, elated to be wanted and needed for more than just defining large words.

“Then it’s settled,” Cal said.

“Before we try to spur any revolts among the people, perhaps we should acquire a weapon of mine,” Roman suggested. Cal motioned for the prince to continue. “It’s called the Halo Sword. I’ve defeated many a foul beast with it. I believe it could be of some use to have it when we cross the point of no return.” The prince grew quiet. “We’ll have to go home…” he mumbled. Patton gasped softly, knowing what it meant. Before Cal to analyze the reactions, though, Roman put on his charming façade once more, a brilliant smile crossing his lips.

“Don’t worry, my dear friends. We shall vanquish the vile villain ruling over the galaxies together!” Cal cheered, pumping their fist into the air. “Alright, let’s get drunk now!” This time, Anxiety and Patton joined Cal and Roman in their cheers.

“Let’s get fucking wasted!” Cal cried.

“I’m quite sure you already are,” Logan muttered under his breath. Cal shot him a glare and proceeded to heckle Joan the bartender until they arrived with a new round of drinks. “Bottoms up!”

The sun rode across the sky in its chariot of fire, witness to the declaration the group had made, waiting to see if they would follow through or fall through, studying the lights that flickered across each of their faces. As the moon climbed onto the horizon, waving goodbye to the flaming star, it, too, observed the now inebriated companions. Come next morning, they would leave for Roman and Patton’s home. They would begin the destiny written out in the stars, unable to retrace their steps once they set foot on the ground. They would endure heartache, elation, fury, and terror. But none of that came now.

For now, the moon and sun, the silver-lined skies, the heavens, they all waited for the Pirate to make their move. For now, they listened as the Pirate sang out a love song in a foreign language, clutching their heart dramatically. For now, all that could be said for certain was this: from now on, they wouldn’t back down the fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned this thing is 65 pages long on my Google Docs (including stuff I have written for future chapters)? That's way more than any novels I actually planned on writing before this idea was like, "Hellooooo." So thank you guys so freaking much, since without you guys I wouldn't have the motivation to keep writing this story. You all rock! <3


	10. The Myth of Calypso

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since the consciousness of time, folk have told of a guardian named Calypso. A conqueror. A warrior. A savior. This is the story they tell of the goddess-woman Calypso, the Generals, and their final battle to defeat the beast that roamed the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCHOOL IS FINALLY OVER I CAN ACTUALLY WRITE WITHOUT BEING CAUGHT IN CLASS YESSSSSSSSS
> 
> *clears throat*
> 
> With that out of the way, here's the next installment of _Starbound_! As a forewarning for future chapters, the myth is important to the overall plot of whatever this story is becoming. Anywho, I hope you enjoy it :)  
>  Note: all of the canon Sides as well as Thomas are in this chapter, though they are never directly referenced by the names we know them by. If you want, leave a comment at the end telling me which Sides you think corresponds to which character! :D (I'll leave you to read in peace now, bye!)

In a world not known to others, a dimension shielded by our naivety, there was a little girl whose strength matched any grown man’s. She had fire in her eyes and anger in her soul, furious at the slow crumbling of her world as others did naught but sit and watch the world burn. The name of the girl bequeathed to her by her parents is no longer known, lost to time and space. She is known only by the name given to her: Calypso, conqueror of the dark.

Young Calypso saw the world burning to flames like parchment paper in a library fire and knew her world was lost. In her silver eyes, she could see the beast whose fingers clutched the world in a vice-like grip, whose sweet and melodic whispers reminded the girl of her mother’s voice, though the warmth inside was not love, but the flames of hell.

The seeing-girl wondered why none of her friends could see this looming beast who was bringing forth their doom, this death-loving creature of ash that spoke as loud as a clash of thunder. She tried to warn her beloveds that this creature was not to be trusted or listened to, but as she looked upon their eyes, she saw the glaze slicked over their unseeing orbs like early-morning dew and realized they now belonged to the beast.

She couldn’t save them.

Calypso screamed until her throat was strained and wept until her eyes could cry no longer, asking the heavens why she could not save those who meant most to her, when a speck of light floated before her like a miniature angel of life. Bewildered, the girl withheld her whimpers of sorrow to listen to the light that floating before her, a messenger of destiny. It told her to dry her tears, for in another world she would find her family once more.

The guardian whispered to her tales of a world just beyond her reach, one she was destined to save. It told of her of planets where crystals grew off tree branches, where the fantasy creatures she had only dreamed about walked and breathed, where palaces touched skies the color of peaches and emeralds. The beast, the light told her, scours thither, too. The beast could only be defeated by a child of the light, the messenger said. She could save this world.

But Calypso couldn’t leave her friends. She loved them too deeply to allow them to wither away without her by her side. And so the guardian showed her a vision of the other world. There, she saw four beings of different walks of life, still unaware of their fates. These beings, the light promised, would be thy family. Thy friends. Thy loves. Thy world.

The tears brimming in the silver eyes of the goddess-child dried slowly, like a rain puddle after a storm when the heavenly rays of the sun caressed its surface. “Can you promise I’ll be able to save these people if the beast grips them?” she asked. The messenger promised the events of her life in this world were not to be repeated. The divine heart beating in her chest began to race, unsure of the decision she should take.

“And why is it that I was the one chosen to go to this secret world?” Calypso asked, her voice weak and trembling. The guardian remained silent for three counts before telling the troubled child that it was the will of the world-walkers, that it was her fate, the story written in her blood upon the scroll of history. The light told her that though her heart refused to accept the fate of her beloved friends, she could rescue countless others if she accepted her own fate.

The silver eyes of the holy girl closed with decision, at last convinced of her divine destiny. “Then I shall do what is dictated for me in the irreversible memory of storytellers.” With that, the light grew, blinding the young child with its power. She threw her hands in front of her face, protecting her precious eyes from the will of the heavens.

When she opened her eyelids, awe overtook the holy woman as she looked around at the new world unraveling before her, eager to share with her all of its untold secrets. Before her stood a being she called an angel, one she had read about as a little girl.

“Take my hand, Calypso, warrior of the worlds, champion of the righteous,” the angel told her. “Be not afraid, for thou hast more power than thou believe thyself capable of containing. Take my hand, divine being, and I shall teach thee the ways of this world.” Calypso looked around again, at the bustling wildlife moving past her, at the earth that seemed to breathe with her, at the angel in front of her, their wings outspread as if welcoming her home. Breathing in the sparkling air that filled her lungs, she reached out a hand, grasping the concrete palm on the angel, proving the truth of the world.

A deafening roar echoed across the universe, and Calypso fell to her bloodied knees, covering her ears against the blood-curdling shrieks. “Young child, dost thou hear why this world needs thee?” The terrified woman nodded meekly, unable to rise until the pounding screams of the damned faded. “Find the strength within thee, goddess of purity, and thee shall vanquish the wretched evil that threatens the very existence of every world,” the angel urged.

Calypso rose at last, having seen a vision as the beast screamed of a perfect world where harmony and love ruled justly, corrupted by a world where infants coughed up ash and parents mourned the loss of children taken by weapons no man should have ever made. She yearned for the first, a utopia she had the power to create, the power to save.

“Please,” the divine woman begged, “I want to at least save _something_.” The angel grew stoic. “Teach me how to defeat the beast, how to save the ones I hold dear, how to save myself,” she pleaded.

“I cannot teach thee how to fulfill thy destiny. In thy soul, thou know'st how to conqueror the unconquerable. I can only provide thee guidance, protect thee as thy soul is nurtured,” the angel told the holy woman. “Come hither, savior. We’ve many a task at hand to prepare thyself for the coming battle.” With that, the angel’s grip tightened. Wings unfolded, massive and blinding and powerful, the color of justice and ethereal harmony and ever reminiscent of the rainbows that had dotted the sky of Calypso’s homeworld. The angel took Calypso took their home, where creatures of myth took hold of Calypso’s hands, guiding her to a small room. They told her she would sleep on the humble cot made of wool and sticks for the night before the angel would return to begin her training.

The creatures left before the young woman could ask what training the angel meant to subject her to. As the next morning sun rose, so did Calypso, roused from her sleep by the angel, who in silence offered her a blade the colors of the night skies at home, saying, “Rise, gallant warrior. There is much to learn.”

  
  


Years passed as the holy woman grew older and stronger, the fire in her eyes burning brighter. Finally, the angel decided, the goddess-woman was ready to meet her Generals. In the midst of a swordfight, the angel told Calypso to come with them, taking her hand the same way she had the first time she had looked upon the world of light. Though confused, the holy woman followed her guardian into a path of marble and sandstone, where four beings waited, talking amongst themselves.

“Young warrior, thou art strong alone. But with thy Generals at thy side as protectors and friends, thy shall be able to vanquish the despicable beast. I shall introduce them,” the angel stated as the beings known as the Generals paused their conversation. They waved forward one with eyes the color of violets in summertime. “This is the Mage.”

“Hello, Calypso,” greeted the Mage, shy and quiet. He bowed his head, Calypso answering with the same gesture of respect.

“This is the Warrior,” the angel told the divine woman as a man with eyes the color of glittering rubies stepped forward, bowing deeply.

“My most humble greetings, sweet Calypso,” hailed the Warrior as he straightened, his red coattails flapping in the wind.

“This is the Scholar.” The winged being gestured to a man with eyes the color of the ocean at midnight who nodded his head curtly.

“Salutations, Calypso the conqueror,” acknowledged the Scholar, whose eyes beheld warmth despite his cold demeanor.

“And this is the Lover.”

A happy being skipped forward to embrace the startled woman. “I’m so happy to finally meet you, dear Calypso!” exclaimed the Lover, who eyes reminded Calypso of the sky on a clear day absent of clouds. The Lover released Calypso, returning to his ranks beside the other Generals.

“Do ye Generals, the Mage, the Warrior, the Scholar, and the Lover, swear to protect the Vanquisher, Calypso, until she hast fulfilled what destiny has been bestowed upon her?” The Generals each nodded in turn, speaking in tongues as they responded to the angel’s demand. “Then I shall leave ye in peace, to commune and to congregate. Farewell, holy woman. May Fate be kind to thee.” Without another sound, the angel disappeared, never to return again.

Calypso understood she no longer needed the guidance of the angel; now that she was strong of heart, there was little the angel could do to protect her. The beast would begin hunting her.

“Fair maiden, it is my honor to present you with a gift, given to us by the angel that brought us together,” the Warrior said, reaching into the depths of his cape. From its shadows, he brought out a stone, crystal and transparent, reflecting all sorts of colors upon the pathway. “This is what the beast seeks. We have protected it until your arrival, for if this stone fell into the hands of the beast, its power would be unstoppable. The second you touch it, m’lady, the beast will know where you are. We have trained for eons in many different forms for this moment. When the beast comes, you must kill it. Are you ready for the moment you’ve trained for, m’lady, or shall we postpone this event?” asked the Warrior. Calypso had no words to speak for her gaze was lost in the stone, marveling at its perfection and beauty.

“What is it called?” the goddess-woman inquired.

“It is known as the Gazer Stone,” the Scholar replied. “It contains a great power, one that should have never been harnessed.” Calypso continued to study the strange stone.

“Not here, then,” the woman decided. “A place where we can fight unconfined, a place where our abilities will be able to flourish and aide us in the battle.” The divine woman paused, a dark feeling swirling in the pit of her stomach. She brushed it off, pushing forward. “My home. There are savage lands there that stretch for miles.”

It was decided. The goddess-woman, using the knowledge she had gained throughout her training, shut her eyes and whispered an incantation the angel had taught her. Opening her heaven-painted lids, her gaze fell upon the lands she had once called her home, in a time she had nearly forgotten.

“Is this where the battle shall take place?” one of the Generals asked. Calypso nodded, sighing as she took in the desert that expanded unto the horizon, not a soul in sight. A single hare hopped across the barren sands that melted into the soles of the divine woman’s slippers, the only sign of life in the wasteland Calypso hardly recognized as her home. Some much change had befallen the lands in her absence. Perhaps, now she could set her world to rest in its insipid grave.

The Warrior brought out the Stone from his cape, holding it gingerly. “Shall we begin the final battle, m’lady?” he asked. Calypso stared at the Stone glittering in the burning sun and placed her fingers on it. All at once, the sky blackened and a scream ripped through the desolate desert. Calypso, concerned for the safety of the Stone, placed the Stone within her heart, for the beast had arrived.

A tornado of emotions plagued the holy woman as her Generals withdrew their weapons; the Warrior drew a sword made of gold and joy, the Scholar brought forth two handheld daggers curved like scythes, the Lover shapeshifted in a creature of terrifying power, and the Mage held up his hands, his eyes glowing violet as he cast enchantments.

Young Calypso searched the horizon, expecting to see a monster approaching her. But all her eyes caught was a lone figure on the dunes of sand, limping forward with a stagger. “Who’s that?” the woman asked her Generals. They all answered that they did not recognize the mysterious person.

The figure grew closer, cloaked in shadows and depravity. Eyes the color of an amber sun peeked out from eyelids that flickered closed, begging for the sweet release of slumber. “Young child,” the figure called. “An offer of assistance is needed. I cannot find my way home, and the sun shall soon set on a scavenger’s residence.” Calypso went to the figure to find a young man with one leg twisted like the truth, amber eyes glowing in spite of the fiery star up above that painted the landscape in light.

The man grinned like a liar who knows he has gotten away with his deceit as his wide eyes watched the divine lady of the heavens. “Dear Calypso, do you know what powers are concealed by your naivety?”

The heavenly woman jolted back, the Generals' grips on their weapons tightening.

“How is it you know my name?” she demanded as the Generals came forth to protect the savior.

The man cackled, letting his head fall back to address the heavens. “Divine Calypso, all beings know of your name: ‘Calypso, the conqueror,’ ‘Calypso, the vanquisher,’ ‘Calypso, the savior,’ and many other lies. For me to not know the being that is you, why, that is unacceptable!”

What happened next was lost to the mysteries of the universe, whispers gone silent as the truth they harbored became unspeakable for beings unenlightened. Some say that Calypso struck the man, angering the beast within. Others weave a tale of years the mysterious newcomer spent with the Savior and her Generals before revealing the true masked nature inside. Even others claim that Calypso saw right away the eldritch demon and began the battle posthaste. But the stars shall never reveal the history they were witness to, and so Calypso’s story shall remain half hidden in shadows, rumors emerging like the dead from its dark clutches.

All that can be said is that the beast revealed himself to the Savior at one point or another along the chronology of the universe. And when the utter truth lay bare before the eyes of the divine woman, all chaos broke loose, baring its brazen teeth with wild ferocity. The battle that would seal the fate of both of Calypso’s worlds had begun.

The Generals drew their weapons as shadows shot up, soldiers summoned from the other world, prepared to risk their very lives to protect the world they called home. On the side of the beast of ashen death stood monsters conjured from nightmares and the darkest niches of man’s immortal mind. Calypso stood in front of the army that had risen behind her without warning, insecurity ravishing her nerves. These innocents would sacrifice themselves for the holy woman’s victory. She couldn’t let them down.

The beast, its body made of a hurricane of ash and smoke woven together with human hatred and anger, swayed as it grew until it towered over the celestial Calypso and her army. Its pure white eyes gleamed as it foresaw the destruction it would wreck as soon as its inky fingers touched the Gazer Stone. A smile full of teeth sharp enough to rip delicate flesh crossed the beast’s smoky mouth.

“Darling Calypso, are you ready to see who shall first succumb to the will of the immortal gods who watch our crusade?” the beast asked. Its eyes scoured the wasteland, its infernal gaze landing on Calypso’s Generals. “Young Generals, why do you feel the need to shelter this pathetic creature? What if she doesn’t win, and all your lives have been wasted? What will you do when you find out all this time, you were preparing for _nothing_ , wasted your precious youth for _nothing_ but a little girl who will lead you to your doom?”

“Shut up!” one of the Generals cried suddenly. The Mage stepped forward, his violet eyes near black as his eyes scorned the beast towering above him. “Calypso is a hope for my world. If she can save it, save my friends and family, everything I love, then I will protect her without hesitation. If she can save me from myself…” the Mage spared a glance at the goddess-woman, certain of the bond she would forge with her Generals for generations to arrive. “...then I would give my life in exchange for hers,” he declared. The Warrior stepped forward, the Lover and the Scholar reciprocating their companion’s motions, until the four of them stood just behind the savior, staring down the demonic beast with defiance.

“I shall valiantly sacrifice my life if it means saving Calypso and our worlds,” the Warrior added.

“And I,” said the Scholar.

“And me, too,” the Lover finished.

The beast eyed the four brave Generals, a low cackle emerging from its mouth. “Then I shall vanquish you first,” it uttered as it grew ever more so in size. It opened its mouth, canines the color of pearls visible underneath the charcoal ash. From the depths of its throat billowed clouds the color of death and deceit, depravity and despair. The clouds became ashen vines that reached out for any sign of life and happiness.

The Generals turned their weapons of choice on the approaching vines to no avail. They raced forward, branching off as they grasped the Generals with unrelenting fury. The Mage yelped in terror and one long vine overtook him, grabbing him like a crooked, gnarled hand. It began racing back towards the omniscient beast as the Mage’s companions tried their best to rescue their friend. Calypso let out a shriek of terror as the Mage was dragged across the harsh lands, his hands clawing at the ground racing beneath him, desperate for traction that would release him from the clutches of the smoky vines.

“Let him go!” the divine woman yelled, her words propelled with the force of a thousand waterfalls. As if they had been slapped, the vines jolted back, releasing the Mage as the scurried back to the beast, who snarled angrily. The Mage leaped off of the desert ground and ran for his dear ones, falling into their embrace with heaving pants, his breath erratic and his eyes full of panic.

“Stupid girl!” the beast seethed, its wispy limbs swirling furiously. “You can’t play defensive forever!” It lashed out another horde of vines, smashing into the holy woman’s army, crushing the innocents.

And the holy woman breathed fire upon the land, ravaging the fallen with the purity of her soul. She screamed, “Begone, wretched creature of darkness! Leave the goodness of this world, retire to your universe and be content to rule over those who have strayed.”

The beast, which stood as tall as the heavens themselves, only laughed. Its voice shook the very ground, and all but Calypso fell. She alone stood fast against the mighty but terrible creature before her, and she alone had the strength to stop it. From the depths of her heart she brought out the strange, glittering stone. The monster tilted its head, its eyes locking on the mineral.

“Is this what you seek, traveler of the corrupted worlds?’ she asked. The beast hissed, transforming into one familiar to the valiant warriors. It slid closer, speaking from its mind to all those concerned.

“Give me the Stone, darling, and you can end this. You can save your people, your friends, and yourself. Wouldn’t you like to play hero?’ it said. The silver eyes of the goddess-woman lit up in anger, mist swirling around her, bending to her will.

“The only true way to save the ones I love is by protecting the Gazer Stone.” The creature snarled, whipping its tail towards nearby bystanders. In an instant, they fell to the ground, to rise back up no longer. Calypso shrieked as the beast turned its gaze back towards her. Swallowing, she asked, “You want this?” The creature nodded, sliding ever so closer.

“Then come and get it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this thing was six pages on my google docs. putting in here makes it seem so short... *writer woes intensify*


	11. Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cal and Co. pull a risky heist on the Vasryian Treasury, coming away with the mysterious Halo Sword. The Pirate also learns more about the shrouded past of one of their companions.
> 
> TW: heavy language, angsty backstories, mentions of blood and injuries, bullet wounds (no spoilers but they'll be fine), SPACE BATTLES (that's rIGHT, MOFO)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I RISE, BITCHES
> 
> this took way longer than expected to write, so i hope you all enjoy it :D  
> there will be an important note at the end about uploading, so please read it

“Remind me again of how we’re _not_ going to be caught in your delusional idea of a plan?” Logan asked skeptically, running a hand through his hair for what had to be the umpteenth time. Roman, as though summoned from the other life, jolted awake from daydreaming in the copilot’s chair, stilling suddenly as he was met with Anxiety stuffed into the seat with him, head resting on the prince’s shoulder, completely asleep.

“Well,” the prince began softly, combing his fingers through his friend’s silken hair, “my plan isn’t entirely formulated yet, but I have a rough outline-”

“Do you mean to say we’re going to walk into our literal doom with no forethought, basing our chance of survival solely on _luck_?” the robot asked dangerously. Roman shrugged. The robot shut his eyes, groaning. “You know what? I’m just going to power off for a handful of hours- preferably forever, but I assume you’d just turn me own against my own volition anyways,” Logan said as he strode out of the room, rolling his eyes as he passed the prince.

Calrex eyed the prince. “Logan has a point, you know,” they said, their words still somewhat slurred from their storytime at _Sleeping Stars_. “We should at least have a solid escape plan if your let’s-go-off-the-cuff-and-hope-we-don’t-die scheme doesn’t work out.” Roman snorted.

“Hey, I’m working on it!” he cried indignantly. “I just need to smooth out the details is all. I’ll finish it tonight,” he promised. From the other pilot’s chair, Patton snorted, his hands skillfully steering the ship on its path.

“Roman, you procrastinate like there’s no tomorrow. Do it now; you might even have stroke of inspiration!” the shapeshifter said. The prince sighed, caving in to Patton’s request.

“Fine.” He hummed, mulling over something. “Once we get there, we’re going to have to hide immediately. Remember that valley we always used to run to and play in?” he asked the Drisine, who thought back for a moment before nodding. “We should land there; I don’t think Draven would go anywhere near something as beautiful. He’d think it would ruin his aesthetic,” the prince chuckled bitterly. “Anyways, once we’re there, we have to start moving quickly. I believe the stables shall be the perfect hiding spot!” Cal bit back a laugh, rolling their eyes.

“Not gonna happen, Princey,” they said. “I’m not going _any_ where near mounds of horse shit-”

“Language!”

“Sorry, Patton... Anyways! You and I both know Logan’s going to flip his top if he realizes we’re going to be cowering in utter hell for about three hours while you revise your plans last minute to figure out those tiny details you’ve forgotten until then.” Roman flushed, sputtering in offense. Cal cocked an eyebrow. “Say, how many details are you going to gloss over, anyways? I’ve hid in the stables like twice beforehand on my own failed escapades, and they’re only useful if you’re escaping. Even then, you have to grab a horse and go, not hide behind saddles and whatnot, since they updated security to have guards patrolling the stables and garden grounds, too.” They paused, seeing Roman shrinking in on himself. “You must have run away a long time ago to not know this sort of stuff,” they concluded, a face of pity flashing across their face with a weak but understanding smile.

The awkwardly tender moment was interrupted by Anxiety snorting in his sleep, cuddling closer to the prince, who cooed softly at his dark thunderstorm. “I would squeal, but that would wake him up,” Roman whispered, biting back the smile reaching from ear to ear. “Ugh, why does he have to be so precious when he’s sleeping but be so ferocious when he’s awake?” the prince complained, sighing as he slumped into what little chair space was not claimed by Anxiety.

“Focus, Roman, we need to know the plan if we actually want to pull this off,” Patton warned.

“Yeah, and we want to do this before we finally sober up,” Cal added with a raunchy grin. “Patton, why can’t we just kick this thing into overdrive and get to Vasryia now? It’s several hours at least if we do it manually.” Patton let out a chuckle as he turned his head to face Cal.

“You better not say, ‘Are we there yet?’ Cal, or I’m exiling you to the kitchen!” Cal giggled, mouthing the words to tease the shapeshifter. “And as much as I would love to go into hyperdrive and get to Vasryia quickly, it’s far safer to fly manually. Vasryia is surrounded by security gates that detect any ships flying by in hyperdrive to tag and track them, since there are a lot of pirates and smugglers in the past few decades who use Vasryia as a trading point. We would be found out immediately. But without hyperdrive, the security gates won’t lock on our ship and tag us. Last I heard, Draven had gotten cohorts of soldiers to monitor the skies for any ships entering the atmosphere at speeds lower than hyperdrive, but they slack off all the time.” Cal hummed.

“How do you know this and Roman doesn’t?” they asked, jutting a thumb at the prince who was now quietly fuming with rage that would only fuel dramatic outbursts. At Roman’s audible huff, Cal added, “You know I’m joking, Roman! Anyways, continue with your devious scheme for revolution and revenge, I wanna know how long I’ll have to wait until I get to beat the shit out of that asshole. ‘King,’ my ass! You’d be a better king, Roman, and you aren’t even royalty, even with that silly nickname of yours,” they muttered, their train of thought derailing on a tangent, missing the glance Patton sent towards Roman, who had froze in his seat, mouth slightly agape as if he had been about to protest Cal’s words.

“...About that…” Roman mumbled, his voice breathy and cautious. Cal fell silent, attention back on the prince. “The others kind of know this already, so I guess I kind of forgot to tell you these past weeks…” Roman started as Cal settled in on their chair, perched like a feline. “I may sort of actually be a prince,” he said sheepishly, his fingers weaving their way once more through the tangled strands of Anxiety’s hair as Cal’s jaw dropped to the floor.

“You’re shitting me,” they cried in disbelief. Roman remained silent, glancing away from the pirate who would surely bombard him with all sorts of questions that would reopen old wounds he had nearly forgotten the pain of. “You’ve got be shitting me. And here I thought Anxiety only called you ‘Princey’ because you act like one…” Cal sat back in their chair, eyes wide with shock. They leaned forward suddenly as a question popped into their mind. “Why are you an outlaw, then? I’m sure living the high life is much better than whatever you guys have gotten up to in the past,” they commented, tilting their head with curiosity.

Roman stiffened, the tight clench of his jaw the only hint that Cal was stepping dangerously close to the line Roman drew between himself and others. “Sorry, Roman. Sore spot?” The prince nodded curtly, saying no more on the matter. Not that it mattered; Cal was already piecing together what little they knew about Roman to figure what exactly he was still unable to say.

A silence fell over the inhabitants of the cockpit. It was not the comfortable, understanding silence that had befallen them times beforehand, rather one that made them all shift in their seats, unsure if they should be the one to break the fragile tension that had arisen. Fortunately, Roman decided first to interrupt everyone’s moment of discomfort.

He tsked as he straightened himself, Anxiety slumping halfway over Roman’s body. The prince struggled to push the sleeping human off of him as he launched into a much more stoic continuation of his devious plot. “We’ll sneak into one of the kitchen windows, since it’s in the back and less guards will be there. From there, it’ll be easy to find an entrance to the catacombs. I know those corridors like they were mapped out on my eyelids, so we’ll find the Treasury in no time. Once we’re there, we grab the Halo sword and get out as quickly as possible.” Roman pursed his lips, running through a possible line of thought before speaking. “I suppose _then_ we can figure out a way to overthrow Draven without, as Logan would say, ‘dooming us all.’” He tapped a single finger to his lips, slow and musing. “Calypso, he’s really rubbing off on me, isn’t he?” he sighed, ending his explanation on a much lighter note.

Cal, however, had heard only about half of it, their thoughts still concentrated on whatever Roman wasn’t telling them. It was certainly up to him whether or not he disclosed whatever Patton seemed to understand, based on the shared glances they’d caught the two friends sending to one another. “Say, Princey, mind if I ask you something? Outside?” Roman raised his eyebrows but untangled himself from the mess that was Anxiety sleeping and followed Cal outside of the cockpit. They rocked back and forth on their heels, wondering how to ask the question burning in the front of their mind without offending the dramatic outlaw.

Roman took notice of Cal’s hesitation and felt dread begin to creep into the back of his mind. “Come now, Cal, ask away… I already know it’s something about my past, isn’t it?”

“...Yeah. It is. But, you don’t have to answer, just-”

“Just tell me, Cal. I’m going back home, the wounds are going to open anyways. Might as well rip the band-aids off of some of them while I still have time to catch my breath,” the prince replied. Cal took a deep breath, stalling.

“You’re a prince.” Roman flushed, glancing at the floor before meeting the pirate’s eyes once more. Even after all these years, it still felt odd for someone to finally know. It still felt strange when he told Logan and Anxiety he was related to actual royals, not that he himself was one of them. It still felt like something was missing when he combed his fingers through his hair, only to not be blocked by a crown tossed haphazardly on his head. But Cal knew none of that. “You know the Vasryian palace as if you grew up there-” Roman’s face contorted into something full of pain and secrets, “-your sword-thingy is in the Vasryian Treasury, and you talk about Draven like he personally fucked up your life.” They paused, hoping the prince would understand what Cal was trying to ask without actually voicing it, perhaps sparing some of his emotional heart from tumult. But he was passively stoic, either not catching Cal’s drift or not knowing how to answer. “You’re the prince of Vasryia, aren’t you?” The words were subdued, as if they were taboo to say aloud. Roman’s gaze was stuck to the floor, his eyes glued to the little nails in the white metal panels.

All of a sudden, Roman’s eyes snapped up and Cal saw the pain behind his blue irises, the troubled past he kept hidden if only to not bring down his companions. Cal saw the raging fire quelled before their eyes, as though just speaking of his mysterious origins was a flood that would drown him if he wasn’t clinging so desperately to the hands of his comrades. “...not anymore,” he mumbled under his breath, swallowing thickly as he fought back the tears that never failed to appear in time with the memories of his final days on his home planet. “Draven… he took the throne and Patton and I ran for our lives…” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence, but it seemed that Cal didn’t care, showing more concern for the details they knew he was leaving out. He concentrated on his feet, unable to meet Cal’s unflinching gaze.

“Do the others know?”

“...Only Patton. H-he was the one who rescued me. All Logan and Anxiety think is that I carry royal blood, not that I’m its definition.” The prince’s gaze met the pirate’s once more, full of desperation. “We must do this, Cal. We _must_ overthrow Draven. What he did… it’s simply unspeakable- I still wake up screaming some nights. I’m losing my mind, knowing tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, knowing every moment the next one could be when Draven finally finds me and finishes the job. I can’t sit around anymore. Finally, I have the chance _and_ the balls to do something right for once in my life, and I’m not backing down. It’s like you said, Cal. I’m not backing down from the fight anymore. He made my life a living hell, and I’m going to make him pay.” His eyes flickered towards the barren walls, searching for any sign of an escape from the confining hallway. “If I don’t…” Roman trailed off, shaking his head.

Cal grabbed Roman’s shoulder, forcing the prince to look them in the eye. “Hey, Princey,” they said. “Don’t worry. We’re gonna find Draven, and we’re gonna take turns beating his ass with the backside of a staff.” Roman, against his will, cracked a smile, almost chuckling at the vision of Draven splayed comically across the floor, his companions taking turns swatting him as he let out even more comical screeches.

Cal turned to the door where the others where waiting on the other side. “Come on, let’s join them,” they suggested as they lead Roman back through the doorway, releasing his hand so he could take his perch once more in the copilot’s seat, noticing the way the prince’s shoulders slumped slightly, encumbered with both his revelation to Cal and his return to his home. He sullenly took his seat, gingerly allowing Anxiety’s sleeping form to flop over him once more, a small comfort to the growing dread that he was having trouble pushing away.

“Roman, could you wake Anxiety up?” Patton said, his baby blue eyes focusing on the stars racing past them as they made their way to Vasryia. The prince sighed.

“Right.” Roman proceeded to smack his hand on Anxiety’s face, telling the earthling to wake up. Said earthling woke up immediately, his eyes wild and still full of drowsiness.

“What the fuck, Roman?!” Anxiety screeched as he toppled out of the copilot’s chair, landing on the cold floor with a resounding thump. Though his body was somnolent, his mouth was apparently not, bombarding the blushing prince with a litany of curses, half of which spoken in his own tongue. “I was having a _nice_ dream, thanks for interrupting it!” the human complained. “What the hell so important that you had to wake me up?”

Cal bit back a cackle watching Roman try to explain his plan to the sulking human, who only offered retorts in response. The prince eventually gave up with a displeased huff. “Couldn’t you at least have woken me when we were closer to Vasryia? We’re not even in the DR-34-M system yet, for crying out loud! At least then you could kill two birds with one stone and explain your stupid idea to Logan at the same time,” Anxiety grumbled.

“It was Cal’s idea to overthrow Draven, blame them!” Roman argued. Cal threw their arms up in defense.

“Hey, actions speak louder than words, and you’re the one who’s planned this whole rebellion, Princey,” Cal teased. Roman began arguing against Cal as well, before Patton finally tired of their antics and ordered all three to head outside so he could focus on flying the Sanders Yersinia without crashing into another ship or a rogue asteroid.

“How about we show Cal one of those earthling movies you’ve introduced me to?” the prince asked Anxiety, who shrugged, glancing at Cal for an okay. Though unaware of what movies they were talking about, they were never one to shy away from any form of entertainment, and nodded eagerly. “What do you think, should we show them the one with the mermaid or the son of the gods first?”

“Whichever one has the most romance,” Cal interjected. “And whichever one is longer, it might help pass time ‘til we get to Vasryia.” Anxiety mused over his childhood favorites.

“Then probably _The Little Mermaid_. It’s one of my favorites, and it’s over an hour, so we should be set for the rest of this roadtrip,” Anxiety replied as the three headed for the Common Rooms in the ship. “If we die, which we probably will, at least I get to introduce you to the wonderful word of Disney!”

They all piled together on a couch as Anxiety fished around in a chest, yanking out a slim box containing a disk. After setting it in a device that Cal assumed had been found on a black market somewhere or other, the human returned to the couch, snuggling into Roman’s warm side as a pillow as a castle that had been a constant throughout his childhood popped up on the screen in front of them.

“Settle in, Cal. It’s a long way to Vasryia.”

  
  


After Cal had finally wiped away their tears at the happy ending with the pretty mergirl and dashing human prince, Thomas appeared to inform them that they would be approaching Vasryia soon and that they should power Logan back on. Heeding the hologram’s suggestion, the trio headed for the kitchen, Roman’s wings flapping quickly after the emotional rollercoaster of the movie.

They found Logan seated prim and proper, a thin wire connected from the back of his head to an outlet in the wall. His eyes were open, empty, lifeless balls of glass that endlessly stared forward unnervingly. Cal shuddered, creeped out by the way Logan’s head was tilted ever so slightly, as if he would jolt awake at any moment to lecture them.

“Alright, how do you turn a robot on?” Cal wondered aloud, already playing with the little wire in the back of Logan’s head, scrutinizing the robot.

“I’m blaming you if anything happens to Logan!” Anxiety hollered as he pried Cal’s hands away from the delicate wires. “Let me do it, I know how not to damage him.” Gently, Anxiety coaxed the plug from the outlet as tiny sparks flickered. He opened a small panel on the back of the robot’s neck, tapped a few buttons, and shut the panel door, unplugging the wire from Logan’s head as well. “And now we wait,” the earthling sighed, hoisting himself up onto the table, swinging his legs nonchalantly.

Without warning, Logan’s eyes burned like blue fire before dimming to his normal slate grey orbs. The robot took a breath, testing out his systems as his vision fully returned, noticing his companions. “I assume we have arrived at Vasryia?” the robot said, his voice cracking slightly. Logan swore under his breath. “Remind me to seek a new voice box if we survive this idiotic plan, this one must be getting old.”

“Duly noted,” Anxiety replied as Roman swiped a bottle of juice from the cabinets. The four felt the ship shudder as it grew closer to the gravitational pull of Vasryia.

“Hey, kiddos, we’re going to pass through the security gates in a moment. You might want to come check this out,” Patton said over the intercom. Following the shapeshifter’s request, they helped Logan stand up and headed for the cockpit, making small talk as they went along. The doors slid open with precision, revealing the unmistakable swirling blues and greens of a planet. Cal stepped further toward the wall of glass in front of them and felt a rush of air leave their lungs in a soft, breathless gasp.

Before the ship was Vasryia, a planet known for both its beauty and its ruthless leadership. While mostly covered in blue waters that shone like sapphires bathed in a setting sun, the few swaths of land there were blessed with emerald forests whose trees sprung up to towering heights never witness by any other planets. Even from here, it seemed almost like the planet had its own soul, as if just by gazing upon it one would gain a connection with the enigmatic Vasryian lands.

“...I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” Cal whispered in awe. They could scarcely remember a time when their life wasn’t shrouded in shadows, when they were able to see such untouched marvels.

“Welcome home, Roman,” Patton murmured, blinking away tears from his baby blue eyes as a smile crossed his lips. “I can’t wait to see the Neimas and Raehs again!” he said in a much more excited tone. Roman made a sound of agreement, taking Anxiety and Cal’s hands in his own and pulling them haphazardly to the large glass pane so they could eagerly take in the sight.

“You were born here, Princey?” Anxiety scoffed skeptically as he took in the view. “Looks like just forest to me.” Roman swatted at Anxiety’s nose with a tsk.

“Alright, kiddos, play nice. And, Anxiety, Roman _was_ born here. Just beyond the horizon is the Main Land, a peninsula where most Vasryians live, since almost all of the planet’s covered in dense vegetation. The palace is on the water’s edge, and the coast is only a minute’s walk away,” Patton explained as he expertly guided the spacecraft through a circular gate. All held their breath as they passed through, letting it out with relief as nothing happened.

Patton landed the Sanders Yersinia in the valley, just as Roman suggested, and they scurried out of the spaceship quickly, as if their presence alone would be enough to alert Draven to the upcoming danger. “Well, it’s now or never, kiddos. Are you guys ready?” the shapeshifter asked as he stuck out a hand to the others. Cal quickly placed theirs on top, Logan and Anxiety following suit. Roman, however, hesitated, a cocktail of emotions flashing across his face as he stared at them.

“Roman?” Anxiety asked with concern. Roman snapped back to life, throwing his hand on top forcefully.

“Sorry, it’s just been a while since… since I’ve come back home,” the prince mused wistfully as his eyes roamed over the landscape, taking in the behemoth trees around them, reaching for the sky. “Let’s go.”

  
  


They expected it to be difficult to infiltrate the castle. They expected there to be guards at every turn. They expected to run into trouble. But they never expected to be able to sneak into the kitchen without any qualms, without any fights, without any guards. It was like they were allowed to walk in unannounced. Cal felt the hairs on the back of their neck, tingle, unnerved by the seemingly deserted castle.

“I smell something cooking, there’s got to be at least _someone_ here!” they cried in exasperation. “How can a castle have literally nobody?” They growled low in their throat, annoyed at the absence of people, and thus, adrenaline-inducing fights.

“Hush, Cal, if there _is_ someone, they’ll know just by hearing you!” Roman retorted. “Now follow me, there’s a passageway somewhere around here, if I remember correctly.” The prince lead them through a narrow hallway, stopping without warning in front of a tapestry. Its brilliant reds and golds stood out from the muted blues and purples of the background. Cal squinted, yet still couldn’t make out what the picture was supposed to be. “In here,” Roman ordered, pulling back the woven piece to reveal a small wooden door behind it. The door swung open easily, as though there had never been a need to lock the entrances to the passageways in the first place.

The group followed Roman through a labyrinth of catacombs and corridors, weaving his way through them like they were tattooed on the back of his hand. They moved in silence, all agreeing any sound might spook the others, besides possibly revealing their location to any guards.

All at once, Roman paused, hushing Cal and Logan, who were whispering about deep space travel. “Listen,” he whispered, pressing his ear against the stone cold wall to his right. Cal cocked an eyebrow, clearly confused. Giving in, they pressed an ear to the wall, too, and heard faint mumbles from the other side.

“ _Your Majesty, in three days time the suns will set on Dageron. My team and I believe that the best time to attack is during the Festival of Dying Suns_ ,” someone was saying. Roman paled.

“Sweet Calypso, that’s Sir Picani!” he whispered angrily. “What has Draven done to that poor man?”

“ _Very good, Picani. You’ve proven your worth to me. You are dismissed._ ” A cold silence fell over Cal and Roman as they shared a look. _Draven._

“ _Your Majesty, what should I tell the troops?_ ”

“ _Whatever they want to hear. Make up some tale of Dageron outlaws threatening the royal family. The common folk believe whatever they are told._ ” Cal glanced at Roman, whose face was pale as a ghost’s, his fists clenched into tight balls. He was hyperventilating, eyes glazed over, staring forward as though his eyes were seeing a different reality.

“Roman, whatever you’re planning to do, save it for later. We have to follow through with the plan, or we might get ourselves killed,” Cal told him harshly. The prince jolted, shaking his head twice. “Can you lead us to the Treasury?” They cringed at the barely concealed concern, gripping the Vasryian’s arm tightly to keep his anchored within their reality. Roman took a deep breath as he collected himself, blinking back invisible tears from his dark eyes.

“It’s this way.” Without another word, Roman continued their path to the Treasury, stopping and starting in turn as the sounds of a guard’s boot hitting the cold stone ground grew louder and softer at intervals. “This should be it,” he said, stopping in front of a nondescript door with rotting wood edges and rusting metal bolts on either side. Closing his eyes, he held a palm up to the door, which swung open without effort.

“That shouldn’t be possible,” Logan muttered under his breath.

“Really? Vasryians can turn into animals and it’s _opening doors_ you think shouldn’t be possible?” Cal teased. Logan spluttered, grumbling quietly as Roman helped the others down to the Treasury floor. “Right, Princey, what now?” Cal asked, landing on the floor like a cat.

“We find out where the heck Draven’s keeping my sword. We grab it. We gun it. We warn Dageron and hopefully save some lives in the process. We kick the shit out of that lying bastard,” Roman replied, gritting his teeth as he whirled around in the dark room. “Let’s split up. As bad an idea it is, we’ll find the Halo Sword much faster if we do. Anxiety, you’re with me, and Logan, you’re with Patton. Cal, did you ever go into the Treasury?” Cal nodded.

“Once or twice, but I know my way around. Let’s kick it, shall we?” The others and went off in separate directions, leaving Cal in the middle of the room they had entered. It was underneath the castle, judging by the frigid temperature, and a puddle formed in one corner of the room, the leak above dripping every so often enough to remind Cal they weren’t in a dream.

In front of them was a tall glass case spanning the height of the room. A panel on the other acted as the door to access the glittering jewel resting on a peach velvet cushion inside. The thief inside of Cal squirmed, aching to snatch the beautiful piece and sell it for a month’s good night’s sleep. The piece, an heirloom necklace that just laid on the cushion, taunting Cal, was a emerald in the shape of a cloud beset in sparkling diamonds. Cal’s hand rested on the glass, their fingers tapping apprehensively before they sighed, turning away. They had a mission to get to.

With that, they turned on their heel, letting their feet guide themselves down the maze of hallways. They recognized the long, winding corridor as the Hall of Ornaments, where the royal family and its visiting guests stored their precious jewelry, ranging from sapphire earrings that would likely tear a hole in someone’s ear to ivory bangles studded with tiny gold nuggets. Cal, unfortunately, had to bypass them all with a muffled whine.

They didn’t know where they were headed. It seemed like their legs had a mind of their own, guiding to some unknown destination that was pulling at them like gravity. Dimming torches passed by them with monotony, homogenous doors at every interval, yearning to be opened. Cal stopped suddenly, feeling something call them. They looked to their left to see an nondescript door, so plain they would’ve passed it by and not thought twice about it had they not felt something tugging at their soul like a child who so desperately wanted to play.

The door, surprisingly, swung open, unlocked. Inside, it looked to be… empty. There was nothing, save for a couple dust mites lounging in the air as if the room hadn’t been opened in some time. Cal took a step forward and stumbled, tripping on an invisible pebble on the ground. As their head rose from the dusty floor, they crawled back in surprise. A dais had appeared before them like a ghost in the dead of night. Atop it sat a strange stone dusted with lavenders and a blush. Cal’s eyes were entranced by this odd rock that had appeared out of nowhere. It seemed to call their name, begging them to reach out and touch it. They extended one of their dainty fingers- _surely one touch wouldn’t hurt?_

A yelp sounded through the dim corridors. Cal lurched away from the stone as if shoved, gaining their bearings as they staggered out of the room, looking around for the person. Another yelp, louder this time, sounded, alerting Cal. They took off immediately in the direction of the scream, forgetting all about the door that seem to vanish as soon as they were out of sight.

Cal rounded a corner to see the flash of a guard’s rapier and froze. In the hallway stood Roman, his body angled forward to protect Anxiety from the blade, and the guard, whose ebony skin shone like coal in the torchlight and whose body took on characteristics of a wolf. Roman’s face was bewildered, flashing with recognition.

“Another one? What is with you kids and stealing jewels for a thrill? Come on, if you’re lucky the Head Guard will let you off with a caning,” the guard said sternly, whipping his weapon back and forth between Cal and Roman and Anxiety, making sure they knew not to try to escape.

“T-Terrence?” Roman mumbled in disbelief. The guard visibly flinched back, his eyes narrowing. “Sweet Calypso, Terrence, is that really you?”

“How do you know me?”

“Terrence… it’s me… Roman. Don’t you recognize me?” the prince asked in a hushed voice. The guard- Terrence- stared at Roman, squinting as he racked through his brain, trying to figure out who the thief in front of him was. The guard’s face relaxed into one of shock, seeing a much younger face in his mind.

“No way…” he breathed. “Your Highness? What are you doing here?” Terrence’s face broke into a relieved smile as he let out a sigh, lowering his rapier. “I- I thought you were dead!”

Roman stepped forward, grinning. “It’s been too long, my friend.” The prince tackled the guard in a crushing hug, letting a few quiet laughs escape him. “Patton and I escaped the day… the day Draven sealed his power.” The mood between the two immediately soured. “We’re going to bring him down, Terrence. He’s forced too many people to suffer without any repercussions.” The two separated, studying each other. “I almost didn’t recognize you. Still short as ever, eh?” Roman smirked as Terrence squaked in offense, his grey tail swishing.

“Are you _ever_ going to let that go?”

“Never, as long as you’re still short,” Roman teased, his wings flapping happily.

“As much as I hate to interrupt this touching moment, we still haven’t found your sword Roman, and we need to make this heist as quick as possible,” Anxiety interjected, tugging on the prince’s arm. Terrence’s face paled.

“Oh no… I alerted the Guard the Snake that there were intruders in here, they’ll be here any minute!” he exclaimed. “You guys have to get out of here, now!” Cal felt the air rush out of them. Draven headed the Guard. He would be here. They could exact their revenge now. They could end this all.

“Where’s Patton and Logan?” they asked instead. Worry flashed across the faces of the others as Anxiety shouted their names. No reply came. “Shit, we gotta find them.”

“Cal, do you know how to get back to where we entered?” The pirate nodded. “Good. Go look for Patton and Logan. We’ll go find my sword, we’re not leaving empty handed.”

“I’ll ask Dominic and Jamahl to come here. They’ll help us,” the guard said. Duty given, Cal ran off in the opposite direction, calling the name of their friends, looking down every hallway they came upon. There was no sign of their companions.

“Patton! Logan! Guys?” they cried desperately. From a distant corridor came a soft thump, grabbing Cal’s attention. They ran towards the noise, turning sharply down the hallway to find Logan stumbling out of a room, his hand interlocked tightly with Patton’s. Patton’s breaths came in short gasps, his head weak on his neck, lolling around. “Are you guys alright?” Cal asked with concern, rushing to help support the semi-conscious shapeshifter.

“I don’t know what happened! One moment, I opened the door to see what was inside, the next moment, Patton’s fainting,” Logan explained as he struggled to hold up the Drisine. Cal heaved Patton onto the back, explaining the situation to Logan as they began dragging Patton back the way they had came.

“To make a long fucking story short, Roman found an old friend of his who’s going to help us out of here. Friend is a guard, so he alerted Draven’s top squad of soldiers we were here. Roman ran off with Anxiety and the guard to find his sword, and I came to find you guys. We’re getting out of here, now,” they said as they limped down the hallways, careful to keep Patton upright as he stumbled about, still not fully conscious.

The three made their way quickly through the corridors of the Treasury, hearing nothing. Cal felt their heart climb up into their throat, beyond worried for their friends. “Calypso above help them,” they mumbled under their breath as they reached their starting point. They heard Logan take in a breath, holding it. Cal turned to the robot.

“They’re going to be okay… right?” They cursed silently, cringing at how childlike and vulnerable they sounded. The AI’s face relaxed.

“Of course, Calrex. We’ve been in worse situations before. Don’t worry,” he reassured, taking Patton from their care. “Come on, Patton, we need you to wake up now,” he urged the shapeshifter. Patton blinked heavily, groaning.

“Jus’... gimme a minute…” the Drisine grumbled, disoriented.

A sudden, low scream tore Cal’s gaze away from the recovering pilot to the other hallway that led in the room they were in. They could see the faint glow of a lantern at the distant end, but could make out nothing else. Cries of pain echoed through the dim corridor, Cal’s panic slowly but surely rising to the dreaded top.

They could hear heavy footsteps coming towards them, the shouts getting louder and more coherent. A swash of white entered the light, the edges crimson red. From the darkness burst Roman and Anxiety, gripping each others’ hands as they raced towards the pirate, the android, and the shapeshifter. “Guys, open the door! Just push, it’s right behind you!” Roman shouted as the colorless uniform of a guard plunged into the light behind them. It wasn’t Terrence, nor was it any guard Cal could remember seeing on any of their escapades to the palace.

Cal threw their body weight at the wall, swearing as their shoulder collided with the stones of the secret door. It swung open as Cal stumbled into the dusty passageway, hitting the floor with a yelp. Logan helped Patton inside, moving past Cal. “You help them, I’ll get Patton as far ahead as possible before they advance after us.” Cal pushed themselves off the floor, turning around to watch the prince and the human run down the corridor as fast as they could.

Roman suddenly grabbed Anxiety, shoving him into the passageway as he slowed down, pulling a dagger from the depths of his coat. “Roman, are you crazy? Get in here so I can close the door!” Anxiety yelled, grunted as he thrust himself from the ground.

The prince either didn’t hear him or don’t care. He whirled around, walking backwards. “Dominic, take this. Protect yourself, alright? I’ll come back and help you all, I promise,” he murmured. The guard startled, halfway through refusing the dagger before Roman placed it gingerly in Dominic’s hands. “I’ll fight alongside you until the end, my dear friend.”

“No! Your Highness, forgive for refusing your orders, but it appears to me that your friends need you. I cannot allow you to endanger yourself. You and your friends must defeat Draven. Now, go, Your Highness!” The guard sheathed the dagger in an empty holster, turned toward Roman, and shoved him hard. Roman fell back into Anxiety’s arms, his arms flailing dangerously. As he pulled the door shut, the guard at Roman’s face of betrayal. “Me and the others never stopped searching for you, Your Highness. Please don’t make our efforts in vain.”

Dominic heaved the door closed, offering the three a sad smile as the light from the torches disappeared. Roman let out a distressed whine, ripping himself out of Anxiety’s arms, clawing at the door. “Dominic, no! Draven is going to kill you, you fool! Please, don’t… don’t… don’t sacrifice yourself for someone as lousy as me,” Roman said as he sank to the dusty ground.

“Roman…” Anxiety began. “...c’mon. We have to go.” Gently, the earthling pulled the prince away from the door, Cal prying his finger off the heartless, cold stones. “You heard him, don’t let his sacrifice go to waste,” he grumbled. The three headed down the corridor, their tense breathing the only break of silence.

Roman guided them without a word, jutting his head in the directions they had to go in. Just as Cal was convinced they had gone the wrong way and the door in front of them lead right into Draven’s hands, they fell out into the kitchen, coughing as disturbed dust flew into the air. “Let’s just go,” Roman said coldly as Cal tried to speak words of comfort.

They met Logan and Patton at the kitchen window they had broken to get in. Patton, by now, had regained his inhibitions and could stand upright, much to the relief to the robot. Cal and Logan, the strongest of the group, helped the others out as they heard a crash from the other side of the kitchen.

“Shit, guys, I think we might have company!” Cal shouted as they helped Logan out of the window, grabbing onto the ledge to haul themselves over. They heard incoherent mumbles, a shot firing through the room. “Fuck!” They ducked, narrowly missing being hit by the bullet. They threw their body over the ledge, falling onto the ground with a grunt of pain. “Let’s go!” they shouted, already starting to run. “We might have to bring out the big guns for- wait, you guys _have_ blasters on that ship, right?”

“Uh, I think so? We’ve never really been one for offense. I think they’re on the lower level, if I had to guess,” Patton explained as he shapeshifted into a spotted feline, running ahead to the ship. Once there, the Drisine shapeshifted back, opening the bay ramp for his friends, who were still scrambling down the sides of the valley. “Come on, kiddos, get on- woah!” he called as he dodged another bullet.

A fleet of guards was approaching them from above, raining them with bullets and beams of energy. Roman froze suddenly, seizing up as his breath quickened, flinching with every gunshot that brought him just one step closer to death. Anxiety turned to pull Roman along and paled, letting out a howl. “Roman, watch out!” he screamed as he tackled the prince to the ground, a bullet whizzing by them, not an inch from where the Vasryian’s heart had been just moments before. The earthling spoke rapidly in his native tongue, hands wandering over the prince’s body, looking for a wound. “Are you alright?” he panted.

Roman nodded, eyes wide and wild as they stared into the human’s. “T-thank you,” he mumbled as Anxiety pulled him off the ground, yanking him as the sprinted for the ship. Cal ran up the ramp, shoving Logan and Patton inside with them as the AI began bringing up the ramp.

Anxiety and Roman launched themselves onto the ramp, rolling into the ship with a grunt. “Ah! _Shit!_ ” Anxiety shrieked in pain, grabbing his arm. Roman, his breathing still heavy from panic, took the earthling’s arm in his arm, twisting it to see a trail of blood making its way down his shirt. As his eyes followed the trail up, the prince felt his breathing completely stop. Just below his shoulder, Anxiety’s shirt had ripped open, revealing a bloodied wound. The bullet he had protected Roman from had hit his bicep.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, I’m freaking out, this is insane, we’re going to die-”

“Cal, now is not the time. Anxiety, come with me, I’ll tend to your wound,” Logan interjected quickly, heading down a hallway, the human untangling himself from the prince’s guilty, lingering grasp and following. “Patton, Roman, Cal, you guys better get us out of here,” he warned before disappearing into a room.

“I’ll go find the blasters,” Cal said, running downstairs. They tripped on a step, falling face-first to the lower level. “Calypso above…” they muttered bitterly. “Right, let’s find where my babies are.” They slammed the door open, running down the hallway. They checked every room, but none seemed to be the blasters’ bay. “Where are you?” they asked in frustration. They kicked open the door to their right, surprised to see nothing but a small hatch in the compacted room.

They turned on the comm system in the room, hearing the ship groan as Patton likely coaxed it to lift off. “Hey, Patton, I’m in a room with nothing but a hatch? Can you tell me if it leads to the blasters or an escape route?”

The speaker next to them crackled to life. “I’m looking at a blueprint right now, Cal, and I think that is the blaster. Do you know how to handle one?” Cal chuckled as they threw open the hatch, revealing a seat directly underneath, surrounded by a control panel.

“Do I know how to handle a blaster? Please, blasters are child’s play for me.” They slid into the sight, grinning at the sight of the controls of a battle-class blaster. “Hoo boy, let’s see what you babies are capable of!” they cackled gleefully. They hit their head on the window in front of them as the ship suddenly lurched forward, taking off.

“There are two fighters headed towards us on your right, Cal,” Roman apprised. Cal found them on the scanner, locked the target onto them, and pressed the control buttons. Two bright blue beams of energy shot out of the blast, hitting the fighters head on. Cal whooped, feeling familiar adrenaline pump into their veins.

“Let’s fucking do this!”

Two more fighters appeared on their scanner, coming from opposite directions. They tsked, focusing on the one approaching them fastest. They maneuvered the blaster in the fighter’s direction as it fired twice, biting their lip as they pressed down hard on the buttons. “Taste laser, fucker!” they cheered as the fighter went down, one engine a ball of flames. They moved on to the other one, firing several times and missing. This fighter was definitely flown by a pro; it dodged all of their shots, and even returned a couple as the Sanders Yersinia climbed higher into the atmosphere.

“Guys, this fighter’s dodging all of my shots. We might not- ah!” They screamed as a shot hit the spaceship full force, rocking it back violently. They heard broken up screeches from the comms, the system frizzling. “Are you guys alright?” Cal shouted, hoping the comms system wasn’t broken.

“Cal- shoot- down!” crackled the speaker above. Cal growled, determined to shoot down the fighter. They heaved the cumbersome controls back, pulling the blaster up.

“Let’s see if you can dodge this,” they grumbled, firing the blaster a few feet ahead of where the fighter would be. As the beam approached the fighter, it exploded, unable to contain the energy any longer, creating a cloud of smoke and flames that distracted the plane long enough for Cal to lock onto it. “ _Long live the king,_ ” they whispered bitterly as they shot once more, sending the ship crashing down to the earth below. They cursed vividly as they noticed a squadron lift off from the ground.

“Cal, hang on, we’re going to go into hyperdrive as soon as we’re far enough!” Roman said over the intercom.

“Right, well, we’ve got company, so make snappy,” they replied as they recharged the blaster, gearing up to fire again. The ship was rapidly picking up speed, the Vasryian lands almost disappearing before Cal’s eyes. “Don’t worry,” they mumbled aloud, thinking of the guards who apparently were still loyal to Roman, “I’ll make sure to get Roman home safely.” With resolve, they shot a final time, managing to bring down two in one blow.

“We’re far enough now, Cal, hold on to something,” Patton advised as the ship rumbled to full power. Cal swore as they were pressed back painfully into their seat, eyes swimming with tears as they saw the warped image of one final fighter.

“Guys, one’s following us, I have to get rid of it!” they alerted, hearing the speakers crackle as blurred stars flew past them.

“Don’t, Cal, it’s too dangerous! The shot could rebound and damage the Sanders Yersinia,” came from overhead.

“I’m sorry, Patton, but there’s no other option. I have to shoot it or we risk _it_ shooting _us_. We’ve come this far, we’re not leaving this up to chance,” Cal responded, aiming the blaster. Whispering lines from the myth of Calypso, they locked onto the fighter and fired.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the beam of energy shot out of the blaster cannon. Cal held their breath, biting down hard enough on their lip to draw beads of crimson blood. The beam shone like a dying star, nearly blinding them as they focused on its path to the fighter, which was more a splash of chartreuse and ebony than a flying hunk of metal in the warped heavens of hyperdrive.

And then reality went back to its normal speed, the explosions raking at Cal’s sensitive ears. It took them a moment to register the fact that the explosions came from the fighter, the shot having hit it dead on. Cal felt their breath rush out of them all at once, panting in the aftermath of the short-lived but intense battle.

“Oh. Oh! Fucking Calypso! I did it! I fucking _did it!_ ” they whooped, smacking the controls of the blaster happily. Overhead, they heard the intercom crackle back to life. “I did it, guys! Did you even see that? Calypso, it was awesome!”

“I’m so proud of you, kiddo!” Patton said from the cockpit. “Come upstairs, we’ve got some things to figure out.”

As the adrenaline slowly eased out of their body, Cal headed upstairs to the cockpit, where Patton and Roman were waiting for them. Patton was calm, relieved tears visible in his eyes. Roman, however, was fidgeting, biting his lip and tapping his foot briskly. His eyes darted about from place to place, and his hands hugged his sides.

“He shouldn’t have taken that bullet for me. I… I should’ve been more careful. He wouldn’t have gotten hurt if I had just been more _careful_. Sweet Calypso, I’m too reckless,” Roman was in the middle of saying.

“Roman, it’s not your fault that you froze up. You’ve been through a lot, nobody can blame you,” Patton argued.

“Well, Anxiety probably does!” Roman spat, crossing his arms childishly.

“Woah, hey, Princey, you don’t know that,” Cal cut in. “He did what he thought was right, not what he thought had to do. Besides, he’s probably more worried about his wound getting infected that whatever you’re beating yourself up over. Now, Patton, what did you want to talk about?” Patton straightened in his chair, offering the pirate a smile of thanks for dealing with Roman.

“I just wanted us to go over everything that happened so we can figure out our next step. I’ve asked Thomas to check in on Logan and Anxiety and update us on his condition. Anxiety has the Halo Sword, so at least we didn’t go to Vasryia for nothing. We also need to assess how much damage was dealt to the Sanders Yersinia. If it’s really bad, we’ll have to go to the mechanic and get it fixed before we do anything else,” Patton explained. Cal nodded, still eyeing the prince.

“If you can pull up a diagram of the ship, I can cross-reference that with incoming data. I did this a lot with the Dragon Witches,” Cal suggested, sliding into a seat by the glass panel. Patton did as asked, and a transparent screen popped up in front of Cal, displaying a crude outline of the ship and its basic components. “Right, let’s see…” they breathed, looking over the diagram, their eyes flickering between it and the numbers scrolling by the screen on the right.

“‘ _40% damage sustained overall,_ ’” they read. “Shit, really? Hmm… ‘ _Outside barrier: 20% damage sustained._ ’ Yeah, but where? ‘ _Engines: 10% damage sustained, Thrusters: 10% damage sustained._ ’ Okay, so do you have anyway to capture events on this ship?”

“Yeah, we have a motion capture device outfitted on the top. Why do you ask?” Patton replied.

“If I can find out where we were shot, I can use that information to figure out which exact parts were damaged.” Cal hummed, their fingers flying over a keyboard, pulling up the motion capture device’s data onto the screen as well. Numbers and letters flew past Cal’s blue-green eyes, nothing but gibberish to the untrained being. “It’s saying that a fighter came towards us from down-right, firing twice, hitting us once. Must have been one of the ones I shot down. The beam moved past the engine, so it must have been a thruster. Looking at the ship’s diagram, I’d say it’s the one labelled ‘Thruster A.’ Before that- so probably while we were lifting off or running into the valley- three bolts of energy hit the ship, according to this thing. One hit… let’s see… one hit the engines, and the other two hit the hull. My best guess is that the damaged engine is this one, and the other two shots hit here and here,” Cal said as they pointed to the contact points of the diagram.

“We’re probably going to need a mechanic,” Patton concluded, Cal nodding in agreement. “Roman, would you set a course for Legion? It’s about time we pay Wonderling a visit.” Roman nodded curtly, banging a couple keys as he entered their next destination.

“Who’s Wonderling, exactly?” Cal inquired, cocking an eyebrow as the Vasryian and the Drisine glanced at each other, oppressing giggles.

“Oh, don’t worry Cal. You’re going to love her,” Roman told them wickedly, smiling mischievously. Cal gulped, already feeling concerned for their well-being, though they knew they would probably be fine. After all that had happened so far, a mechanic couldn’t possibly any worse.

Of course, _experiencing_ every that had happened so far told them it probably _would_ turn out to be worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first off, THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE <33333 you guys are really sweet, it means so much to me that you all took the time out of your day to read this :DDD
> 
> second off, uploading is going to be wonky for the next month or so (as if it wasn't already). in two weeks, i will be headed to west virginia (~mountain mamaaaaaa~) for _another_ two weeks. i will try my best to get another chapter out before i go away, but i'm lazy so that probably won't happen. don't expect another upload for four weeks at best. thanks for understanding! :D


	12. The Mechanic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew visit the mechanic Wonderling to repair the Sanders Yersinia while Cal explores the golden city of Niner,
> 
> TW: Mild language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahahahah I said it might be four weeks until the next update. I LIED. This is entirely unedited/review, so please forgive me for any mistakes you may find.

They flew for Legion, a foreign country on a foreign planet in a foreign system. Cal couldn’t help but feel nervous as their ship slowly entered the atmosphere, not used to being completely new to a place. They didn’t know the people, they didn’t know the land, they didn’t know what resources were at their disposal if push came to shove and Draven showed up. It made them uneasy, squirming in their seat as they pressed their lips into a thin line, willing the worry to go away.

Halfway through the journey, Anxiety and Logan returned from the med bay, the earthling sporting a cloth sling. “It honestly doesn’t hurt that much now that Logan’s put some salve on it,” he told Roman, who placated immediately.

“Anxiety, I wanna see the Halo Sword, show it to us,” Cal begged. Anxiety shrugged, pulling out a small stone nonchalantly and holding out for all to see, palm outstretched. Cal’s eyes narrowed. “Is that… is that it?”

Roman hopped out of his chair, strolling confidently and swiping the stone from Anxiety’s hand. “It’s not activated yet, it’s still in its hidden form,” he told them as he whispered to the stone, waving his hand over the smooth surface. Before their eyes, the stone disappeared, replaced by a shimmering sword, its handle the color of roses. It seemed to glow, growing brighter every second Cal’s eyes were trained on it. “Ta-da!” Roman exclaimed, proudly showing off the gleaming blade. Cal marveled over it, running their fingers along its sharp length, careful to not cut their hand on the serrated edge. “Calypso, Vasryians have the _coolest_ things. When we defeat Draven, you’re going to get me one, deal?” Roman laughed, nodding his head as Cal continued to poke and prod at the Halo Sword.

“You might want to settle down Cal. Trust me, you’ll need that energy when you meet Wonderling,” Anxiety mused, stifling his giggles with the black sleeve of his hoodie.

“Okay, now I’m really curious about this ‘Wonderling’ person. What- how- who even are they?” Cal asked. The other four shared a look, a wistful look in their eyes. It was Logan who took up the duty of explanation.

“Wonderling… is an enigma, to say the least. She could very well qualify as the definition of sonder or ebullience; though, she’s a rather complex character to describe. We crash-landed once near her shop a few years back when we were less experienced pilots and had had a run-in with intergalactic law enforcement. She repaired the Sanders Yersinia and offered us hospitality. Wonderling is the best mechanic in the universe, without a doubt, and one of the few people besides Remy that we trust wholeheartedly,” Logan detailed. Cal pursed their lips, deciding to pretend that they understood half of the words the robot had used.

“She’s very tough when the time calls for it, but she’s a sweetheart otherwise,” Patton chimed in. “We’ve had an adventure or two-”

“Which we do _not_ speak about,” Anxiety cut in. “The sooner I forget, the better,” he snickered. “The sooner _Wonderling_ forgets, the better.” Cal smirked, planning to ask the mechanic about the incident in question as soon as they met.

“Hey, kiddos, we’re going to arrive soon,” Patton informed them as Anxiety cheered quietly, eager to see their friend.

Before Cal knew it, the world of Honua approached them, a spinning ball of blue and green, a marble of life in the bag of existence. Patton guided their spacecraft for the land of Legion, heading for Niner, a city that shined like polished gold and copper. Gears and stained brown off-white cloths seemed to be the decorations of choice in this town, mechanics taking center stage. As the Sanders Yersinia touched ground, Cal caught a glimpse of a blimp soaring across the sky like a man-made sun. Every single building appeared to be made of gold, bronze, or copper, gleaming in the early morning aurora as the sun crept over the mountains towards the east. In the sky, metal creatures of all sizes flew about, some transporting goods and people.

Cal stepped out of the ship with their jaw agape, spinning around to take in everything all at once. A wind-up songbird landed on their shoulder, whistling a tune merrily before flying away. They had half a mind to chase after it, but Logan called their name, gesturing them over down the street, where the others were waiting for them under a sign that read, “ _Exotic Wonders Trading Company and Mechanic._ ” Below it, a second sign was added, scrawled with messy handwriting, reading, “ _arbor & arbor tailoring._”

“Looks like Rowan’s finally got his stuff together since we last stopped by,” Patton was saying.

“Please, we both know Moxie threatened to show his baby pictures to Ada to get him to help her,” Anxiety retorted with a snort. “C’mon, let’s find Wonderling.”

They went inside, a small bell tinkling as the door swung closed, disturbing a cloud of dust. Cal sneezed, waving their hand to clear the air as their eyes adjusted to a place not illuminated by the sun. A couple lanterns were stationed on antique tables, their flames flickering. Aging portraits hung on the walls, little brass placards at the bottom describing them and their sitters, the dim light casting shadows on the canvas that made the people come to life, ready to pop out of their confining frames in a moment.

The tables and shelves doting the space were filled to the brim with exotic goods. One table’s surface was covered entirely in pocket watches carved with intricate miniscule details, and another was devoted to journals and tomes, some opened to seemingly random pages filled with doodles of mythical sea creatures and far-away lands. Cal’s attention was divided between a metal robot and a collection of shiny minerals when a voice spoke right behind them.

“Like what you see?”

Cal shrieked, jumping into the air as they whirled around, clutching their heart. Their eyes landed on a petite young woman watching them with interest, her icy blue eyes piercing Cal’s. Her mocha skin blended into the shadows, giving her the appearance of a ethereal creature. Something told Cal she enjoyed roaming unseen. The woman stuck out a hand in greeting, unhesitant as she grabbed Cal’s and shook it vigorously.

“Name’s Moxie Arbor. I run a tailor shop in the back of this treasure trove. You here for Exotic Wonders or Arbor & Arbor?” she asked in one breath. Cal stuttered, unsure how to respond.

“They’re with us, Moxie,” Roman said, coming to Cal’s rescue. Moxie rolled her eyes, turning towards the prince with a hand on her hip. “Do you know where Wonderling is?” Moxie laughed, her head falling back.

“Oh, she’ll have a fit when she sees y’all,” Moxie cackled.

“Hello to you, too, Moxie,” Logan said, approaching them, dragging Anxiety and Patton away from old telescopes and compasses. “I assume Wonderling is on another delivery?”

“Should be back by now-” Moxie was cut off by the ring of the bell, signaling the entrance of another customer. “Oh, heya, Wonder!” Moxie called, waving them over. “Look who showed!” Cal gulped at the heavy tread of boots, the newcomer’s face obscured by shadows.

“Well, I’ll be damned. If it ain’t the li’l shits who almost broke Axel,” the person, presumably Wonderling, grumbled deathly quiet, her voice devoid of humor. Cal heard Roman curse under his breath. She stopped right as the flames of the gas lanterns lit up her face. A grin suddenly broke across her face. “...who also happen to be my favorite customers! Y’all can head inside the workshop and help y’allselves to a glass of lemonade while I see what y’all broke _this_ time ‘round- oh, who’s the sweetheart over here?” Wonderling asked, taking notice of Cal. Cal swallowed thickly, blushing furiously as they offered a awkward, toothy smile. “Don’t be shy, honey, I don’t bite that hard,” Wonderling reassured.

Cal bit down hard on their lip, willing themselves to not blurt out anything stupid and make a fool out of themselves. They eyes glanced over Wonderling, pausing on her warm chocolate eyes and ebony hair streaked with gold. Her smooth skin, the color of walnuts, glowed in the firelight of the lamps, the white of her blouse standing out in the shadows.

“Cat got ya tongue?” Wonderling inquired, pursing her lips teasingly. “C’mon, I’m guessing y’all are acquainted with one another.” Wonderling ushered Cal and the others into the back, passing into a sizeable room filled with gears and cogs and all sorts of tiny trinkets. A falcon made of metal sat on the largest table, half its wing dismantled on the surface.

“Don’t mind the mess, I’ve got to fix Axis’s wings before I use her again for package delivery,” Wonderling explained as they headed past into a much smaller room, where six chairs circled a table laden with a glass of lemonade and a small plate of cookies that smelled divine. “Help y’allselves. Just leave me some this time, a’ight?” Cal and Anxiety dove at one for the freshly baked desserts, shoving several in their mouth and moaning as the sugar melted in their mouths. “I’ll go take a look at the Yersinia; if y’all need help, just holler.” Wonderling left with a swish of her navy cloak, sending a wink towards a flustered Cal.

“Are those wedding bells I hear?” Anxiety teased, dodging a napkin thrown at his face.

“How about we leave me alone and figure out what we’re going to do now that we have the Halo Sword?” Even Logan cracked a smile at Cal’s flusteredness.

“We’re going to start a rebellion, and _you’re_ going to start a relationship,” Roman said as Cal groaned, burying their face in their tanned hands, feeling their face heat up even further. “Just before the Guard of the Snake found us back on Vasryia, Terrence told me he knew every single staff member who was still loyal to my father and would ask them for their support if I decided to challenge the throne. As we speak, he’s probably rallying up the common folk. By the time we return, we should hopefully have people to help us fight back.”

“Let’s hope Terrence and the others aren’t caught by Draven,” Patton added, Logan humming in agreement.

“Once we rally the support of the commoners, we can storm the palace and capture Draven. We’ll ask any commoners who have any grievances against him to come forward and we’ll transcribe them,” Roman continued, accenting his speech with animated hand gestures. “As soon as we have a big enough list, we declare him overthrown and start imprisoning his original supporters for conspiring against the crown. That’s all I have for now. I think for the time being, we should forget about our impending doom and enjoy Niner while we still can.”

“If it’s fine with you guys, I’d like to explore the city before we leave. I saw some shops selling silk scarves and I wanna get one,” Cal piped up, rising from their seat, wolfing down their third cookie.

“Sure, kiddo, just don’t be too long,” Patton told them. Cal assured him that, of course, they wouldn’t be more than an hour or two, and bolted out of the shop. Their eyes instinctively narrowed in the bright sunlight. They spun around in the street, passerby swerving around to avoid their outstretched arms as they reveled in the glory of the shining city of Niner. Up ahead, they saw Wonderling cautiously approach the Sanders Yersinia, stepping up onto the platform they had landed on.

Cal meandered closer, biting their lip as they idly watched the mechanic set to work, tilting her head as she surveyed the damage dealt to the spacecraft, mumbling to herself as her eyes narrowed. “Will Draven ever stop running them up the creek?” Wonderling whispered to herself, unaware of the onlooker.

“Um… excuse me, M-Miss Wonderling?” Cal spoke up, internally berating themselves for sounding so stupid. Wonderling spun around, eyes wide in slight panic. “I, uh, I surveyed the damage before we came. I can s-show you the, uh, the diagram if it’ll help…” they stuttered. Wonderling flashed them a bright smile.

“That would help me a mighty lot, honey. Thank ya.” Cal hurried into the ship, coming out with a thin device where they pulled up the ship’s diagram and began explaining where the ship had taken damage, pointing a shaking finger at the different areas. “Say, sweetheart, did they give ya a name along with those fancy scars ‘cross your cheek?” Cal flushed, laughing nervously as they rubbed the back of their neck sheepishly.

“My name is Calrex. Bennova. Calrex Bennova,” they spit out quickly, tripping over their words. Wonderling’s eyes narrowed.

“I reckon I’ve seen your face beforehand on some account or another,” Wonderling mused, gaining a faraway look in her eyes before snapping her fingers, straightening. “Might ya be the one they call the Pirate?” Cal went pale, stuttering their response. “Don’t be afeared, honey, I respect what ya’ve done. I know ya didn’t destroy that galaxy- all my eye ya did. Ya’re a right-lookin’ angelica with yar head set on straight. Now, I know what y’all are allotting upon. Mind ya, I wish the others’d stop poking their heads into the firing range, but that’s no business of mine. Ya just remember there are people out there who know the truth. They’ll follow yar lead, Calrex Bennova. Trust them, and they won’t let ya down when the clock ticks midnight.”

Cal was at a loss for words as Wonderling’s unhesitant, impassioned speech. The mechanic took notice of Cal’s nerves and gently grabbed their hands, her calluses rubbing against the soles of their palms.

“If y’all need help at any time during yar rebellion whatnot, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m a mighty fine pilot, if I may say so myself, and I’ve seen my share of battles. I’ve lost some and I’ve won some, but it’s knowing that yar friends are fighting right beside ya that keeps ya pushing ‘til ya’ve made things right.” Cal squeezed Wonderling’s hands, smiling thankfully.

“Thank you, Wonderling. I’m _really_ starting to see why everyone’s eyes would light up when they talked about you,” they told the mechanic, who colored, looking away.

“Oh, I’m nothing but a mechanic with grease stains on my soul. Yar the one who’s going to be savin’ the universe, aren’t ya? Now, ya didn’t just come outside to talk with li’l ole me. Go off and explore, Pirate. Find some booty to show off,” Wonderling laughed, smirking as they let go off Cals hands. Cal flashed her another grateful smile as they turned away, ready to set off and run around the city before they were stuck in the Sanders Yersinia for far too long again.

They paused, turning back around. “Would you happen to know where I can myself a silk scarf?” Wonderling smirked, extending a long, dainty finger down the street, saying nothing as she sent a wink towards Cal, suppressing her giggles.

“Make sure to get one in red, sweetheart. It makes your eyes shine.”

  
  


Cal ran through the street, dodging loitering shoppers as they weaved in and around the shops, the sun climbing further up the sky to burn the shoulders of mortals. They found the stall selling scarves hanging from hoops, their multicolored fabrics standing out in the golden browns of the wooden beams. They ran their hands over the soft materials, chatting energetically with the shopkeeper, a stout, elderly woman whose gnarled fingers tapped the wood rhymically as she watched Cal’s eyes widen to the size of the moon, studying the potential buyer.

“These scarves are made by Olga,” the old woman said with an accent thicker than the trunk of a Farafallen haedel tree, pointing a finger at herself. “They good for love-finding.”

“Sure. Is this what you tell all the couples that walk by?” Cal quipped, examining a different scarf. The hag cackled, her eyes wild and crazed.

“Not that kind of love, child,” she snapped. “The kind of love you wish for when you lonely, the kind between lovers of another kind who fight side by side in heat of battle. The kind of love for _family_.” Cal felt their breath rush out of them, shuddering a little. It had been so long- too long- since they had heard such a beautiful word. Since they could even imagine someone loving them the way a parent loves their child, shielding them from the horrors of the world until they could fend them off for themselves and still return to patch up their little one’s scratches. “Is five galleon, child, but three for you with eyes the color of sky kissing grass,” the shopkeeper offered, holding out an ancient hand to collect the three coins she knew she would receive. Cal wordlessly dropped the coins into her palm, snapping shut and delivering the handwoven cloth to the pirate staring soundlessly into the distance.

“May you find the love you seek, young Pirate,” the shopkeeper whispered conspiratorially as she shooed them away. Cal ran their fingers through the scarf before wrapping around their neck, heading further down the street full of peddlers and overflowing bars, all a raucous celebration of the enjoyment of life.

A less crowded alleyway drew Cal’s attention. They headed down, brick walls shouting up from the ground, stained with the scribbles of wanna-be prophets and teenagers aching to have a voice. They lost themselves in a maze of backways and alleyways, letting their mind wander as their feet did. Eventually, the walls opened up and grass roots forced their ways through cobblestones. Before them stretched out a main street of a different neighborhood, one enclosed by the confining towers of apartments stacked on top of one another like a child’s blocks. Lines of laundry stretched across the narrow street, the sheets dirty and the clothes ragged.

Cal approached this odd alley with hesitation. Glancing to their left, they saw a handmade sign with the words “ _Union Alley_ ” carved into the rotting wood. “Might be like home,” they mumbled aloud as they meandered further into the neighborhood of one winding street. “Oi, ‘zis the choir infantry?” they called to a passing beggar, praying they slang they had learned was known in a place as exotic and far-away as Honua. The man’s eyes were bright and deranged as they focused on Cal’s body, gazing just over their shoulder as though there was someone standing right behind them.

“‘Tever you need, Union Alley pr’vides,” he told them solemnly. “A prett’ girl-” Cal tensed- “shou’dn’t be wanderin’ this street wearin’ clothes of such… fine dis-po-si-’ion.”

“I kin punch a shit where it counts, you ‘cluded,” they threatened, snarling. The beggar backed off, throwing his hands up in defense. They sighed, rolling their eyes as they moved on, scanning over the goods presented by each shopkeeper, their stalls tiny and cramped, hogging as much space as they could to attract enough customers to manage a wage able to buy them the ability to sleep inside and not in the exposed stalls where they mongered their goods like animals.

“Buy a tonic or two?” one yelled.

“We kin teach ya magic ta use on the Mericon traitors!” another offered.

“Want a good time? Just ask me, Night Flower, your next dream,” a femme galante purred, moving sultrily against a wall to attract the flickering glances of those who walked by. Cal pressed on, giving old memories no time to rise from the dead. Searching hands of the blind reached out, aching to see the light once more as Cal danced between them.

“Pirate with the scarf of blood, watch where you step,” a voice called out from a stall hidden in shadows. “There are beasts that lurk below the ground and can hear your careful tiptoes. Allow your devotion to let you fly, and your determination to let you soar.”

The hair on the back of their neck stood on end, chilled by the voice’s words. Two yellow eyes glowered at them from afar. Cal stumbled back, their breath caught in their throat. From the darkness emerged a teenager, their eyes wrapped with bloodied cloth, clutching a yellow-eyed creature in their arms.

“Pirate, there is a snake within your midst,” the young being warned, their grip on the creature growing tighter. “Tread carefully, and escape before it bites.”

“What are you talking about? How do you- how do you know who I am?” Cal asked, their breath hitching.

“You, Pirate, are the savior of the common people who have no voice. You are exalted across the universe for standing up to King Draven of Vasryia. There are whispers of your accomplishments even in the lands the King believes are most loyal to him. You, Pirate, are a symbol of hope for us. But you are in great danger here. An old nemesis prowls this alley. Keep your eyes of an eagle and beware the snake prepared to strike.” Before Cal had a chance to process the words of the teenager, they disappeared back into the thralls of the shadows, the yellow eyes of their beasts dimming to nothing but the absence of light.

Although they tried to shake off the growing feeling of nausea in their stomach, Cal couldn’t refocus on exploring, so caught up in trying to decipher the teen’s ominous words that they failed to notice the man behind them. They bumped into him, grunting at the impact and knocking him over.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!” Cal apologized, helping him up. The man was silent, nodding tersely at their apology. “Are you alright?” they asked sincerely, offering him a soft smile.

“I’m fine,” he said briskly before yanking his hand away from Cal’s, sending them to the ground themselves with a yelp. “Oh, dear, how clumsy of me. Let me help you up,” the man said without much emotion, all but digging his nails into Cal’s arm and forcing them to their feet. Cal stumbled, falling into the man’s arms. As they looked up into his eyes, they felt their face pale, their brain screaming with recognition as those citrine eyes bored into their soul, mocking them.

“Well, if it isn’t the Unwanted One.”

Pain bloomed from the base of their skull and their vision began to blur as they slumped in the man’s arms. The last thing they could think of before they fell victim to unconsciousness was the man’s name: _Cato_.

  
  


Logan leafed through the aged pages of a journal, immersing himself in the different entries, some pages long and full of awed detail about new lands, others short and content to sketch a sunset before turning in for the night. He checked his pocket watch, putting the diary away as he made haste for the spaceship.

“We should leave now,” he informed the others, who groaned but put away their objects of wonder back where they belonged. As Logan counted heads, not helped by Moxie running through the aisles, hugging all her friends goodbye and telling them to come back soon, he felt strange. Something was missing- Cal. They hadn’t returned yet, more than likely simply forgetting to come back to the shop. It probably hadn’t helped that Cal was new to Niner and didn’t know labyrinth of criss-crossing streets as well as he or a native like Wonderling and the Arbor siblings did.

“Hey, where’s Cal?” Anxiety asked. “Didn’t they say they’d be back in an hour? It’s been three.” Logan’s line of logical thinking took a slight detour, his reason turning to concern. Perhaps Cal _had_ gotten lost, and were wandering about, sure to encounter danger. Immediately, he told himself Cal was fine and could handle themselves if they somehow chanced upon a rougher or two. This concern was nothing but him overexerting his systems, a glitch in his programming.

“Find Wonderling. The one you call Cal was taking a look to her. She’ll point us the right direction, a‘least,” Moxie suggested, holding the door open for the robot and his companions. They had no chance to exit, however, as Wonderling came running in, her breath ragged and her hair pulled back, strands smeared with grease.

“I found this on the ramp,” she breathed, pulling out a blood red scarf, her hand shaking as she held it out. “I told Cal to get a red scarf, something must have befallen her.” Her voice wavered as she finished; Logan had half a mind to comfort and tell her Cal was fine, if only to keep Wonderling from having the panic attacks that had been increasing in intensity as of late.

“Wonder, you sure some folk didn’t just lose it to the wind?” Moxie asked, placing her hands on Wonderling’s shoulders to comfort her.

“It was under a rock.” Wonderling’s voice was meek and quiet, something that rarely happened in the time Logan and his companions had known the mechanic. “Some-soul put it there.” Logan could hear her hyperventilating, her brown eyes brimming with tears.

“Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no, we gotta find Cal,” Anxiety was mumbling, running a hand through his long hair. “Shit, if something happened to them…”

Roman stepped towards him. “Hey, it’s going to be okay,” he assured the human. “Everything’s going to be alright.” Gently, he placed his hand on Anxiety’s cheek, pulling the nervous earthling into a hug, whispering comforting words into his ear to calm him.

“Right. We should hit the streets as soon as possible. While I would suggest splitting up to cover more ground, we need to know as soon as possible what’s happened to Cal, so we go as a group, spreading over a small area so if any one of us finds something, we can easily tell the others,” Logan said, already pulling up a map in his mind of the city, planning how they would search the city.

“A’right. A’right. We’ll find Calrex. They’re gonna be mighty fine, Wonder, don’t ya worry,” the mechanic told herself. “Let’s hit the craft first, ‘case I missed some’n. Sweet heavens, I hope they ain’t in a ruckus.” Wonderling held the door open as they crowded outside, squinting in the afternoon light.

Posthaste, they left for the landing pad where the Sanders Yersinia stood in all its glory. Wonderling’s box of tools and gears was left carelessly on the side on the pad. “Shall we begin searching?” Logan inquired. Wonderling, still shaken, nodded, going to pack up her toolbox as the others began scouring the area for any sort of clue of where Cal might be.

Logan watched the others for a moment as they searched. In the back of his head, he could hear himself saying how illogical this was. He had met Cal just over a month ago, and here he was, organizing a search for them and feeling- what, _concern_? The robot scoffed, rolling his eyes. No, this was normal. Missing people warranted concern and search parties, this wasn’t something uncommon.

But no matter how much he told himself he was _not_ getting worried for the pirate, he couldn’t help but feel the dread boil in his stomach like a cocktail mixed wrong, a nuclear explosion only waiting to happen. He couldn’t help but feel those blasted errors in his coding.

The ominous feeling of doom only grew when his sensors caught notice of a slip of paper, half-hidden under a nearby stone. He took it out from underneath, ignoring the dread eating away at him. Unfolding the crumpled paper, he nearly dropped it as he registered the words scribbled on the off-white vellum. “I found something!” he called, watching his companion’s head whip toward him, desperate for answers.

He held out the paper for all to see, unable to keep the tremors from shaking his hand as he gripped the paper tight, reading the words aloud.

“ _If you want the Pirate back, darling nephew, you must come retrieve it yourself._ ”

Roman paled, clutching Anxiety’s hand as he processed the words. “It’s Draven. Oh, sweet Calypso, Draven took them,” he whispered as Wonderling inhaled sharply, covering her mouth with her grease-smudged hands, whimpering softly.

“We have no choice but to go rescue them.” Even Logan was surprised with the words that leapt out of his throat without his permission. Patton spoke up first, voicing his approval. Anxiety agreed less than a second later, Roman joining in with desperate acquiesce.

“Beat his ass, or you’re not ‘llowed back,” Moxie told them angrily, staring in rage at the note that had been left for them. Logan looked at Wonderling, who was staring blankly at the paper, fear driven wild in her eyes.

“Y’all better make sure to bring back that sweet soul, ya hear me?” she said quietly, still focused on the note. “And tell them it’s ‘bout time to rise up. When y’all decide to end this, give me a holler. I’m loath to turn my back on my friends, and y’all need all the help ya can acquire.” With that said, Wonderling turned away and hurried back to her shop. Logan called his thanks after her, knowing she would get Axel ready for a battle as soon as she set foot in her store.

“Bring ‘em back, boys. Wonder’ll be disappointed beyond belief if you don’t,” Moxie added, wishing them luck before heading after the mechanic.

“Don’t worry. We’re getting Cal back,” Roman growled, his brow furrowing with absolute fury. Patton lowered the ramp of the Sanders Yersinia, its crew wasting no time in boarding and getting ready to lift off.

They were going to get their friend back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i printed out the entire manuscript of this hellhole of a fanfic  
> i regret everything


	13. Light At The End Of The Tunnel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trapped in the Vasyrian dungeon, Cal is forced to reckon with their own mind. When it starts breaking, Draven uses the opportunity to use them as a test subject.
> 
> TW: Mild language, imprisonment, hallucinations, questioning of sanity (this one gets pretty dark, guys)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact I hate this chapter with a burning passion because I ended up rewriting the whole thing twice and I still think it's trash and the only reason I don't just delete what I have now is because I just like the couple call-backs I was able to throw in here

Dark. Cold. Dirty. Sore. Afraid. They didn’t know where they were. They didn’t know how they got there. They didn’t know how to get out. All they knew was pure, unadulterated terror.

They rolled over on their side, clutching their head in pain as a dull pounding suddenly exploded into searing fire overtaking all senses. Whimpering, they gripped their wrists hard enough to leave bruises in an attempt to fight off the swelling nausea rising through their throat. Their breathing was erratic, audible inhales and exhales disrupting the eerie silence. It felt like their lungs were collapsing, like the walls were closing in around them, like they were drowning in their own panic, like they were going to die.

Their vision was slowly clearing, forming walls out of death-mongering shadowmen and cell bars out of spears pointed at their throat. The panic didn’t- couldn’t- subside as they realized they were in a dungeon. Trapped. They ran through a list of enemies who would imprison them upon capture, and felt their heart sink into the deepest pits of Chaos, knowing that no matter who captured them, they all lead back to one person- _Draven_.

Hard footsteps echoed down the hallway, cold and heartless. They held their breath, willing the slowing steps to hasten their pace and move on. Luck wasn’t on their side; the doom-filled echoes fell silent as a figure cloaked in darkness and deceit emerged in front of them.

“It’s been a while, Pirate.” The deep, smug voice confirmed their fate.

Through the panic, they spat out, “I have a name, Draven. It’s Calrex Going-To-Kick-Your-Ass Bennova.” The sharp, incredulous laugh that followed forced their sharp tongue to fall flat.

“Oh, darling Calrex. I know who you are. For me not to know the being that is you, why, that is unacceptable!” They shivered as a breeze of unknown origin swept through the dingy cell, never breaking the gaze of the lying king. “I’ve waited a long time to be able to speak with you without having a knife at my throat.”

They scoffed. “And why would that be?”

Draven crouched down to be eye level with them, a small smirk on his lips as though he saw them as a child who didn’t fully comprehend what was happening. “You’re so naive, aren’t you? You know nothing, yet you think you understand every single secret of the universe simply because it sings your praises. You, darling, are exactly what I need. You hold the secret. I know you do. And you’re going to give it to me, darling, because there’s no way out of here, and there never will be unless you give up what I most desire.”

They could hear the fringes of paranoia and obsession borderlining on insanity in his voice. The false ruler had changed since their last encounter in the alley behind _Sleeping Stars_ , even more so since he had first walked into their life. The Draven they knew, the one they could predict like the path of the stars across the heavens, was poised, calculated, and cold. This one was different. This one seemed in control, but was in reality feeling their grip come loose. This one seemed all but a puppet.

And that hardly explained what he meant by “what he most desired.”

Their silence was something Draven apparently didn’t want as a response. He grabbed their ankle by the cell bars and jerked them towards him as they yelped in pain, hot tears springing to their eyes. “Answer me, Blood of Calypso!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” they replied, their voice missing its usual edge. “What secret? And, the fuck you mean ‘the universe sings my praises’? Thanks to you, I can’t stay more than a week on a planet without someone recognizing me.” Once more, a bitter laugh sliced through the chilly dungeon air like a razor.

“Stupid girl,” he hissed, digging his nails deeper into their skin as they cried out. “I’ll get the secret out of you one way or another.” With that, he turned on his heel, his cape swishing behind him, and stalked away, the tread of his feet nothing more than echoes of a bad dream. They drew their legs close to them, cradling the one Draven’s nails had sunk into as though he was a predator on the verge of making them their prey.

At last, they were left alone in the cold, dark cell. Their eyes shot wide as their breath hitched. “Patton?” they called. “Anxiety? Logan? Roman?” The silence was their only constant. “Guys? Can anybody hear me?” Still no response. “Oh, Calypso, what has Draven done to you all?”

  
  


Their eyes opened slowly, as if they didn’t want to confirm they were still here. More of their limbs were sore and covered in bruises from a night of unrest. They let their lids close for half a second, drinking in the peace of sleep before a cough from outside interrupted the slow pace of their heartbeat.

“Unwanted One. I’d never expect to see you here, with all your talk of grandeur and bravery.” They froze, the shivers creeping down their spine not from the cold. Oh, Calypso above, they were screwed. They swallowed the bile rising in their throat.

“And I’d never expect to see you anywhere, with all your stupidity,” they retorted, eyes gaining the jagged edge they were known for. Cato growled, slamming his open palms against the cell bars, sending vibrations through their new housing.

“I wonder if Draven will let me cut out that ever-talking tongue of yours. I’m sure he would,” Cato laughed. They stilled, never to admit to anyone just how truly scared they were. “But that’s not why I’m here, of course. If I can figure out whatever you’re hiding, Draven says you can be my plaything when he’s through with you.”

They felt their heart stop, breath quickening as they fought back the panic setting in. They had come so close to a year without any breakdowns. Old glimpses of an old life flashed through them, each one more nauseating than the last. An old friend whispered hellos, stroking at their mind with long, gnarled fingers that felt like moth balls and oblivion.

“What’s wrong, Unwanted One? You seemed all too willing to talk earlier,” he mocked, reveling in their contorted face as they steadily lost the battle against their demons. They snarled at him as they hyperventilated, soft breaths audible in the unfriendly silence. “Will your friends make you talk?”

Their head snapped up. “W-what are you talking about?” Cato’s cackle reverberated in the lonesome dungeon, foreshadowing the doom that was to come.

He held up his hand, a grainy image appearing out of thin air like the holograms they had seen in Mericon. Their jaw dropped, their body convulsing as if they had been punched as they took in the image of their only friends, clutching each other as if whoever had taken the photo terrified them. Tears spilled down Patton’s face as Anxiety clutched a swelling bruise blooming across his left cheek. Logan’s eyes were blank, devoid of their usual mirth and good-natured sarcasm. Roman stared right into their eyes, wordlessly begging for help.

“What have you done to them?!” they roared, launching themself at the cocky man behind the bars. “Don’t hurt them!” Cato merely chuckled, drawing away into the shadows.

“We haven’t done anything just yet,” he told them. “And we won’t do anything, so long as you tell us exactly _everything_ you know.” They stared at the man, bewildered.

“Knowing you and Draven, you’ll turn your back on your promise and hurt them anyways. My mouth stays shut until you prove you aren’t hurting them and won’t hurt them if I tell you anything,” they snapped. Cato’s head tilted, the low torchlight giving his shadow the appearance of curved horns.

“Too bad. We thought you would cooperate when the livelihoods of your friends are at stake.”

Pain erupted at the base of their head and once more they slumped forward, eyes closing, unsure if they would ever open to see family and happiness again.

  
  


They were suspended in the dark, groaning as they gained consciousness. The world around them was black as the void, no light to illuminate the shadows that could very well be nightmares. They forced themself to take deep breaths, easy and steady. They blinked, proving their dull eyes were open and not sewn shut like a doll cursed by the beast.

Their eyes focused on a faraway patch of grey as it grew bigger and lighter, forming a little flickering flame approaching them. Against their will, their lungs took in a rush of air, disrupting the calm of their breathing, running it staccato.

Fire spread through the darkness, an inferno of Chaos racing towards them as they flinched as sparks of white touched their skin. The fire, however, kept its distance from them, encircling them as though they were a noble at the stake. The flames came together, reaching up towards heaven, becoming a figure dancing in the dark like a ballerina.

The figure turned its fiery head towards them, opening its mouth to swallow their misery whole.

“Calrex…” it moaned. “Why did you leave us? Did your own parents not love you enough to make you stay?” The flames calmed, revealing a black-eyed woman underneath. They struggled against the lead in their limbs.

“Mama?” The woman grinned, showing off bloodied teeth. “I didn’t leave you, I promise. I don’t- I don’t know what happened! I only remember the orphanage, I swear. Have you been alive this whole time?” They could feel tears pricking at the back of their eyes, even though they knew the woman they were talking with was _not_ their mother.

“Do you really believe that, you stupid child?” it mocked. “She hasn’t seen the sky in eons. _I made sure of that._ ” They felt a scream of terror rip from their throat as the woman grew taller, distorting into a beast made of lunacy and pain. It seemed to rush at them; they flinched, shutting their eyes as they whimpered.

“Oh, darling, darling, darling,” the beast said, its citrine eyes wide and always watching. “How can you expect to save anybody when you can’t even save yourself?” it asked.

They opened their mouth to answer and found they didn’t know how to.

“Just give up, and everything will be alright,” it promised. A tear slipped down their cheek and they fell limp. The fear was so overwhelming. “Go to sleep, and everything will be fine without you.” They sighed, blinking away tears as they let their eyes slip close. “ _They don’t need you._ ”

  
  


They were back in the dark void as soon as they fell asleep the next night. Luckily, no-one had come to start discourse, though they felt the loneliness clawing at their back. They’d have to face it sometime.

This time, they could move. They were on their knees, craning their neck to see if they could find anything to tell them where in Chaos they were. They heard footsteps and shut their eyes. They didn’t want to know what disillusion they would see this time.

“Calrex.” They couldn’t help the sharp gasp that left them as they whipped their body around, tears springing to their eyes almost immediately as they saw the crew of the Sanders Yersinia. _Their friends._

“Guys,” they breathed in relief. “I thought Draven had done something awful to you. I’m- I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“We know,” Logan snapped briskly. They furrowed their eyebrows, unsure if they had heard him correctly.

“What do you mean, ‘we know?’”

“You’re such a pathetic, spineless _wimp_ it’s not hard to predict whose loyal _bitch_ you’ll become next,” Anxiety spat, scoffing as he smirked, a hand on his hip. They nearly choked as they drew a breath, taken aback by his words.

“Don’t worry, though,” Patton comforted in a voice that sounded sweet yet poisonous all the same, “we’re fine without you.” The image of them flickered for a fraction of a second, something eldritch replacing them for that moment.

“What are you talking about?” they asked, the tears in their eyes no longer of relief.

“You know what we’re talking about, Calrex,” Patton told them, his eyes cold and emotionless.

“We’re simply projections of your mind,” Logan explained sullenly. “That said, we can only speak what you already know yourself.”

“And when we say we’re fine without you,” Anxiety added.

“It means you know you have no place our ranks,” Roman finished. “We’ve been travelling together for years now and we’ve been fine. So why should anything change when you decide to walk in our lives like it’s no big deal?” They clapped a hand over their mouth, muffling a whine.

“You mean nothing to us, Cal.” They stared at Logan, refusing to believe his words. “So give up.”

“Besides,” Roman interjected, “you’ll be doing us a favor.”

“...what?”

“You told us yourself, _you’re_ the one Draven’s hunting down with, oh, what was it? Ah, yes. ‘ _Every resource he has._ ’ You’re a threat to us. Now that he has you, he’ll leave us alone. Isn’t that what you want? For us to be safe?”

“Well- well, of course I want you guys to be safe, but…” They swallowed thickly. “...I don’t want to lose the only family I have…”

Patton burst out laughing, shaking his head. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as he cackled. He stilled, standing suddenly, his eyes now golden. “Stupid child. You have no family. _We’re_ certainly not it.” They choked back another sob.

“If you really _do_ love us, Calrex, you’ll stay far, far away, and give up. We don’t need you,” Anxiety assured them. A third sob wrangled its way out of their throat.

The tears in their eyes overflowed, streaming down their face, leaving heartbreak and a headache as their friends faded away. They were all alone. Sob after sob bubbled up as they wallowed in despondency and despair. All they could do was whisper the myth of Calypso, and hope they would fall asleep soon.

  
  


“Dear little Pirate, whatever has you so troubled?” They cringed at the sound of Draven’s voice, wiping away the dried tears on their face. “Could it be a nightmare?” They kept their mouth shut, clinging to the ratty blanket they had been given as if it was all they had left in their miserable life.

“I wonder what your friends will think of you when they see you looking so glum?” A painful pang shot through their heart as they bit down on the blanket, determined to not cry.

Still, they could help but voice the worry growing deep inside them. “What if they don’t come back?” they asked, quiet and meek and not at all what Draven had been expecting. As he recovered from shock, a grin full of nothing but wickedness spread across his face. “They’ve survived- fuck, they’ve _thrived_ for years without me. I’m not important to them. I’m just a charity case, and a dangerous one at that. If they know what’s best for them, they’ll be clear across the universe while they still have the chance.”

“Now, Calrex, do you really believe that?” Draven prodded, his voice full of glee and trickery. The Janus-faced king watched them carefully, analyzing what his next move should be.

“What if they don’t come back?” they repeated, lying limp on the dirty stone floor of the Vasryian dungeon. “What if they don’t come back?”

Draven’s smirk grew wider. They were ready.

  
  


He led them through a torrent of passageways decked with long windows, the sunlight blinding them from days without any hope at all. “Just follow me, and everything will be alright,” he swore. They let him lead them like some stable horse, dazed and eyes unseeing.

“ _Blood of Calypso, don’t His whispers conquer you. Stay strong, and prosper_.” They inhaled audibly, turning around, expecting to see someone right behind them, whispering in their ear. There was nobody. They felt their mind break just a little more, unsure what was reality and what was a well-dressed lie. “ _Believe in your Generals. They’ll come._ ”

They shook their head as Draven hurried them along. They reached a pair of grand, elaborately carved door; two guards standing sentry- they recognized them from the Treasury- opened the door to reveal a massive throne room, a rich red carpet leading to the ebony seat of power. As they passed by one of the guards, he took their hand, shaking it firmly.

“It is an honor to meet you, Blood of Calypso.” They felt something in their hand as they pulled away. Draven took the lead once more as they blindly tailed after, discreetly unfolding the crumpled piece of paper.

“ _Don’t let Draven’s lies get to you. Me, Dominic, and Jamahl can get you out of here,_ ” it read. They froze, covering their tracks with a stumble as they shoved the scrap into their mouth, swallowing. Draven grumbled as he yanked them to the center of the room, where a circle had been drawn in chalk. Inside, a diamond had been traced, a perfectly straight line cutting it horizontally in half. At each point of the diamond, a golden candle had been placed and lit. Around the circumference of the chalk circle were meaningless squiggles they assumed translated into the Vasryian language.

They slowed their pace as Draven began speaking. “Oh, you’ll be a most exquisite test subject. Terrence!” The guard who had shook their hand ran in, saluting as he stopped dead. “Go get the _ragar_ ,” he ordered. Their heart skipped a beat. Oh, Calypso, they were going to battle a monster to the death! Draven, meanwhile, hummed happily as his eyes met theirs “Stand in the center of the circle, darling.” They had no choice but to comply.

They waited for the guard named Terrence to return. He came back, not dragging a beast with him, but holding a vial. Inside, clouds of yellow and green mixed together in some toxic fashion. They gulped.

Terrence delivered the vial to the noble, backing away as quickly as was polite, shutting the doors behind him. Draven studied the gases inside for a long time, examining each and every inch of the glass bottle. His eyes glanced up at them, still as a statue in the circle. “Would you like to test it out, my little Pirate?” They sighed, thinking back to the nightmare reality that had confronted them the night before.

“...If it means the safety of my friends… yes.” Draven smirked wickedly.

“This ought to be interesting.” He turned the vial over in his palm, scrutinizing for one final moment before throwing it up in the air. They watched as it fell in slow motion, arching up from Draven’s outstretched hand, falling down towards them. They threw their hands above them as time sped up again, the bottle crashing on the floor.

Nothing seemed to happen immediately. The gases leaked out of the broken vial, seeping into the air. It smelled like smoke. Still nothing happened.

They relaxed their arms, staring down Draven as they sneezed twice. Their arms fell limp. Draven’s eyes bored into their soul, surveying them and the gases that seemed to disappear as soon as they reached the border of the circle. “Shall we test it out?” he asked, lowering himself onto the throne, crossing his legs nonchalantly. They tilted their head, their mind filling with haze.

“What are you-” They sneezed again, relaxing further, as though they were a marionette controlled by strings.

“Tell me what happened when you and my bastard nephew, and those… _inferior_ creatures broke into the Treasury,” the disingenuous king demanded. Their mouth opened against their will. It was like they were seeing through someone else’s eyes, all but a spectator. They couldn’t control their body.

“We broke in through the kitchen, and used the passageways behind the walls to get to the Treasury. We split up; I was alone, Patton and Logan went off; and Roman and Anxiety were together,” they said monotonously. Trapped inside their mind, they cursed, thinking ahead in the story. If they didn’t stop now, they would reveal the identities of the guards who had helped them. Who knew what Draven would do to them?

“What happened next?”

“I found strange stone that intrigued me. I ended up spending more time than necessary looking at it. Roman and Anxiety stole the Halo Sword, and we-” They were cut off by Draven’s furious roar.

They were breathing heavily, trying their best to keep their mouth shut. They had to protect those guards. “They have the Halo Sword?” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his perfect hair. “What else happened?”

Their mouth opened, ready to give away the true identity of the three guards. _I won’t let them get hurt. I won’t talk. I won’t talk. I won’t talk._

“Answer me,” Draven ordered, his eyes full of rage. A bead of sweat made its way down their temple as they struggled to keep silent. “I said answer me!”

_I will not talk. I will not talk. I will not talk_. They let out a cry as they fell to their knees, eyes glowing as silver as Calypo’s. “ _The beast does not control me!_ ” they screamed, throwing their head towards the heavens as the walls shook.

A blue beam of energy shot through one of the walls, ripping through a tapestry of the mendacious king and his citrine eyes. They lay on the floor, their lungs convulsing as spasms tore through their body. Stones began to fall, creating a gaping hole in the wall. Draven howled obscenities as he commanded the guards outside to help. They came in, running for them.

“ _Run. Flee to Legion, on Honua. Find the one called Wonderling. You shall be safe_ ,” they whispered to the guards in their daze, only half-aware of what was going on. The guard Terrence nodded, grabbing his friend and racing for the damaged wall, using the friendly fire to protect themselves from Draven.

“I should have killed you in that putrid alley when I had the chance! At least then you’d rot with your kind!” he raged, stalking towards them, his cape fluttering wildly about. He hissed as his form slowly changed to that of a serpent looming over them. They blinked, and suddenly they were back in the orphanage all those years ago, terrified by their tormentors and Cato’s serpent form sliding towards them. Their eyes opened and they were back in the throne room.

They curled in on themself, ready for all this to be over.

Someone was shaking them, telling them everything was going to be okay, they just had to get on their feet and they’d be back on the ship in no time. They drowsily pushed themself off the ground as the person jerked them to them, pulling them out of reach of Draven’s lunge as he spat venom at them. “Let’s go, Cal.”

They mindlessly followed the voice. “Mama?” they murmured. The person didn’t hear them.

They were led onto the ramp of a ship as someone kept firing into the throne room. “Just follow my voice, Cal. That’s it. You’re going to be okay. Kiddos, let’s get this thing airborne!” _Patton_.

Oh, Calypso, _Patton_. The thought of last night crowded their mind and they stopped, staring blankly at the floor. “Cal?” Patton was asking. “It’s alright, just keep walking. One foot in front of the other. Good. You’re doing great, kiddo,” he instructed as they followed his directions. They were free of the fog and fear in their mind long enough to realize they were headed for the med bay.

Patton unhesitantly unlocked the doors and ushered them to a nearby cot, where they all but collapsed on it, letting their eyes shut. They jacked their knees up against them, wincing as their sore muscles cried out in pain. Patton soothed them, sitting on the floor and holding their hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “It’s going to be okay, Cal. It’s going to be okay.”

They felt the ship rock as it rose into the air. Patton gave them a small smile, reassuring them that everything was going to be okay. They let him believe it.

  
  


As soon as they felt the ship level out, Roman’s voice came over the intercom, telling them he and the others would be there in a minute. True to his word, the doors opened half a minute later, Anxiety being the first one to rush through and go to Cal’s bedside and they curled in further on themself.

“Cal. You’re- you’re okay, right?” he wheezed, panting. Roman appeared behind him, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. “Draven didn’t hurt you?”

They didn’t know how to explain what had happened. On one hand, they knew it had been nothing but an illusion, a hallucination, but on the other hand, it had been too real to be just a vision. There was truth in it, they believed. Logan took notice of their silence.

“Calrex, are we behaving too overbearingly?” Their eyes widened, fearful, and they rapidly shook their head. “If you have any concerns, please, voice them.” Their eyes fluttered about like an ave, searching for the strength to tell them they had to leave or risk putting them in danger yet again. They were scared of the aftermath that would follow.

“...I’m sorry,” they whispered, the back of their throat burning as bitter tears leaked from their multicolored eyes. The others pulled back in shock. “I saw the truth in the dungeon. You guys are fine without me.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. “Calrex, what are you talking about?” Logan inquired incredulously. They shut their eyes, tiny tears escaping from underneath their lashes.

They wanted to not say anything and just disappear, or perhaps sleep forever. But they at least owed their friends an answer. “I’m so sorry. I never should have stayed. I’ve only put you all in danger. I know you all hate me, so you don’t have to hide it. I’ll leave whenever you want me to, just like you told me to.” They focused on the floor, knowing their faces beheld unwanted pity.

“Cal… do you really believe that?” Roman gently asked in disbelief.

“...yes.”

“Cal, you’re wrong. We love you _very_ much; you’re like a sibling to me!” he said. “We rescued you because we care about you.”

“I don’t know what Draven did to you,” Anxiety cut in, “but we’re going to fix it. We’re going to help you get better.”

“Indeed. Though my word may not amount to much, being a robot that cannot replicate emotions and such, I _do_ care for you, Calrex. These past few weeks have been extraordinary, thanks to you,” Logan added sincerely. All eyes turned to Patton, who was fighting back tears.

“You’re like a child to me, Cal,” he began. “I love you _so_ much, don’t ever forget that. I would do anything if it meant your safety.”

“You’re lying,” they said weakly.

“No, we’re not, and we’ll prove it to you. Every day, we’ll prove it until you believe that you, truly, are our best friend,” he finished.

They wanted to believe him, they did, but this was something they had harbored since the beginning, only fully manifested by the loneliness of the dungeon. Patton, Anxiety, Logan, and Roman had nothing to prove to them, nothing to convince them of.

“I promise you, Cal, we’re not leaving you,” Patton swore as they let out a sob.

“That’s what Cassie said, and look where she is now!” they yelled as they threw the cot’s blanket over them, hoping to drown out the world that never stop kicking them into the mud, even when they had just regained their bearings. “Everyone always leaves me. Just go now. I’ll be doing you all a favor.”

They felt the tears begin crawling down their face, silent and miserable. They heard footsteps leaving the room. There. They were leaving, just like they should. Their heart cracked just a little further.

“It’s just you and me Cal. You can talk all you want.” A rush of air filled their lungs. Patton hadn’t left. There was still hope for them. “I’m not leaving you until you’re better, got that, kiddo?” He squeezed their hand once more, still cupped in his own. “It’s going to be okay. No matter how long it takes, me and the others will stick by your side. We’ll get through this, we just have to take it one step at a time.”

They turned their head, able to see his sad smile from under the blanket. They dared to pull the blanket back from their head, offering Patton a ghost of a smile. He returned the smile, feeling his heart swell with hope. It was a start.

“Remember, Cal, there’s always light at the end of the tunnel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BAAAAAAAAACK
> 
> (if you hear someone sobbing the words to "country roads" by john denver, don't worry, i'm just a little emotional after leaving camp.)
> 
> thanks for waiting so long for me to get my act together and write this, haha. hope you all liked it! :D


	14. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Virgil, it looks like the end is drawing near. Panicked, he has fled to the refuge of the windows, where Roman finds him. The two have a heart to heart, in more ways than one.
> 
> TW: Panic attacks, mentions of war, mentions of injuries and scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUPRISE MOTHER FUCKER I ALREADY WROTE THIS CHAPTER  
> ENJOY :DDDD

Virgil was sitting in one of the padded window sills, his head resting against the cold wall, his eyes closed as the sound of long lost earthen music filled his ears, mumbling the words. As the bridge blasted through his ears drums, making them ring, he unconsciously began to sing, pouring every inch of his aching soul into the words. Small tears peeked out from under his eyelashes, reminding him of how much he missed Earth. You never really know how much you love something until you lose it.

He missed the ruins and exploring ghost towns in the dead of night. He missed late night conspiracy theories with Talyn, arguing over whether a phantom or a cryptid would win in a Godzilla v. Humanity style battle. He missed debating with everyone how Slytherins aren't inherently evil. He missed his childhood, when memories were sweet like the candy his mother would buy him on Fridays after school. He missed when grass was lush green valleys and fields, not dead weeds deformed by chemicals. He missed when happiness floated in the air, tangible on the eve of celebrations and holidays.

Most of all, he missed Vae.

“Why are you crying, my little thunderstorm?” a voice asked, cutting through his daydreaming. “I assure you, Cal will be alright, don’t worry,” they said. Virgil wiped his eyes to clear his vision, and lo and behold, there stood Roman in all his glory. The young emo cursed having been caught at his most vulnerable moment, already gearing up to apologize and leave as quickly as possible. But, God, Roman’s _eyes_. Those eyes, which stared at him so lovingly, those eyes made him want to stay. To fold himself into Roman’s arms and just stare at those beautiful blue eyes as he took in the scent of ocean water and campfires. To let his fears fall away, and not be scared to love.

“It’s nothing,” he lied, throwing his black and purple hoodie over his head, his bangs falling in front of his eyes. His heart was already hammering at Roman’s presence, his breathing hitching as he tried not to let out a sob. From under his eyelashes, he saw Roman crouch down to be eye level with him.

“I’m rather sure it’s not ‘nothing’,” the prince said softly. Virgil hated this, feeling pathetic for being so easy to read. “Come on, shadowling, tell me what’s wrong.” On any other day, Virgil would’ve had some snide remark to snap, berating the prince for using nicknames _again_ , even if he did secretly like them.

“Really, Roman, it’s nothing,” he insisted, hoping to God Roman would let it be and he would be alone to cry like always. “Just leave me alone,” he whispered, jackknifing his body at the waist, clutching his knees so they wouldn’t start shaking. But the prince didn’t leave. Instead, he sat down next to Virgil, silent and thoughtful, his wings beating slowly.

“Talking to someone always helps,” Roman said out-of-the-blue after a pause. “Even if you don’t believe they’ll understand, knowing you needn’t carry your burden alone makes whatever weight you’re carrying feel half as heavy. Believe me,” he mused, staring at one spot on the wall, a faraway look in his eyes. Virgil dared to glance up, unsure where Roman was going with this. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I know you think staying silent will make whatever you’re going through go away. But keeping my mouth shut didn’t make my nightmares disappear. Talking about it with Patton helped, though.” Virgil’s eyes flickered to the prince.

“I’m not forcing you to tell me anything. It’s up to you. But should you wish to, I shall always be ready to listen,” he concluded. He looked at Virgil, and for the single second their eyes met before Roman looked away, Virgil saw another side of Roman. A side he had long hidden away, slowly driven insane by the yearn to see sunlight. A side damaged irreparably. A side much like the one Virgil kept inside.

Roman swung his legs up on the bench, his back resting against the wall of the window sill opposite Virgil. He looked out the glass pane, observing the cosmos spread out before him, a smile passing his lips. “I always loved stars,” Roman remarked. “Even when your entire world is burning before your eyes, the stars will always be there, eternal testimonies to your trials and triumphs.”

Somehow, Virgil found the confidence to speak. “I’ve always been obsessed with the stars, too. Sometimes on the weekends, my mother and I would bring sleeping bags and snacks up into the attic in our house, and we’d lie there for hours, spotting out constellations to each other and trading the myths and stories that were passed on beside them. I always got so excited about those nights,” he said, feeling happy tears prick at the back of his eyes. His smile fell. “But then it got too dangerous to even go up in the attic. And when Mom died…” he swallowed with difficulty, feeling a lump in the back of his throat beginning to swell. “When Mom died, I joined Vae and there was just never any time to stop and stare in awe at the night skies.” He sighed, no longer aware of how fast his heart was racing, or how heated his face was, only aware that he was slowly falling more and more in love with Roman Prionsa, the most extravagant being of all time… and the most beautiful.

Sometimes he wished his heart would just shut up.

“You’re scared of losing your loved ones, aren’t you, Anxiety?” Roman said suddenly, his blue eyes boring into Virgil’s soul. He nearly choked on his tongue, stunned at the prince’s words, who noticed the tension in Virgil’s entire body. “You have this look in those celestial eyes of yours.” Virgil blushed, bowing his head so Roman wouldn’t see. “It reminds me of myself a few years ago.” The earthling tilted his head, confused. The prince fell silent, pulling up the leg of his pants as he closed his eyes, scared of whatever Virgil’s reaction may be. Virgil’s whole body froze.

He had never seen Roman’s bare legs before, and now he understood why. Across his entire calf was wrinkled scar tissue, the skin full of untold trauma. Virgil felt a shiver rush down his spine, the lump in his throat ever more prominent as he took in the unnerving sight. It was definitely a burn scar- he had seen the effects of burning flames on flesh and bones. He looked up, bewildered, to see Roman’s grim face.

“I obtained this scar when my uncle tried to burn me alive, just after witnessing my parents fall victim to the same fate,” the prince whispered, little tears visible in his eyes, his lips trembling. “I’ve always been terrified of losing those I love ever since.” Virgil was gaping, he knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to close his mouth, absolutely shocked at what Roman had told him. He did the only thing he could think of.

His arms wrapped around Roman, pulling the butterfly-winged prince into his embrace, hugging him tightly. Though at first surprised, Roman quickly returned the action, his arms wrapping around Virgil’s back. “I’m not gonna leave you anytime soon, Princey. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not,” he mumbled into Roman’s ear, earning a laugh from him. The two remained together for a while, neither willing to let go of the other just yet.

“Hey, Anxiety,” Roman breathed, ending the comfortable silence. The adrenaline started up again in Virgil’s veins. _What was he going to say? Did he do something wrong?_ The prince detected Virgil’s increasing anxiety, and squeezed his shoulders. “Don’t worry, _lavēhsea_ , it’s nothing bad, I promise,” Roman told him, giving him a soft smile. Virgil squirmed, hoping to God his concealer hid his blush, willing the butterflies in his stomach to stop fluttering for _just one second_. Roman swallowed, Virgil’s eyes focusing on the bob of his Adam’s apple.

“I had I dream about… you, a couple nights ago,” the prince began. Virgil blanched, thousands of possibilities flying through his head, each one analyzed in a second before Virgil decided he would much rather hear Roman’s words than the little voice in his head. “We were in this castle made of black thorns and spires; you were in the center of the throne room, tied up, and there were these yellow eyes behind you, just _staring_ at you like you were some sort of prize, and-” Roman shuddered. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to remember. “...And I was walking towards you, but you were saying something, I- I don’t remember- and next thing, you were untied and screaming and those eyes were there and I just froze and I was so scared- and there was this pain in my stomach, and those eyes were just watching me; I- I think I told you to run but you didn’t want to, but you were going to die if you didn’t and-” Roman cut off, breathing heavily as Virgil realized was what going on.

“Roman, look at me,” Virgil ordered suddenly. “Focus on me,” he insisted. Roman’s eyes flickered up to his, so full of fear, and Virgil felt his breath catch in his throat. Oh, what had he gotten himself into _now?_ He could feel Roman’s hot breath from how close they were, feel his eyes penetrating the wall he had so craftily built so many years ago, feel Roman’s thumbs brushing against his hands. “Breath in for seven seconds.” Though confused, Roman followed Virgil’s commands. “Now hold your breath for five seconds, and exhale for eight seconds.” He could hear the prince’s breathing begin to normalize, the panic in his chest subsiding. Virgil repeated his instructions, breathing in and out with his friend.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Roman whispered, his eyes searching Virgil’s for any sort of sign that he understood exactly what he meant. The earthling felt his heart skip a beat, his brown eyes completely captured by the prince’s beautiful eyes that reminded him so much of his lonely planet blue. Without realizing it, Virgil had begun leaning forward, so desperate for some sort of connection with this divine being who had saved him the night he left it all.

He could feel Roman’s breath on his lips and his instincts kicked in, his eyes flaring wide and breath hitching. _Shit, shit, shit_. He could feel a panic attack coming on- _this was not the time!_ Roman noticed Virgil’s apprehension to whatever it was they had initiated.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” Roman whispered, his eyes locked on Virgil’s. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop. Tell me you don't want this, and I shall never let my feelings for you get the best of me. Tell me you don't want this, and we can forget this ever happened, and we shall be but friends, as we've always been,” he promised, his voice delicate and full of melancholy.

“...and, if I _do_ want this?” Virgil dared to ask. He _did_ want this. God, he had lost count of the nights he had imagined what it would be like if he kissed Roman, if his hands fit perfectly into the prince’s as though they were made for him, if he got to wake up next to his soulmate every morning and know Roman was his and his alone.

But if he messed this up, he would never forgive himself.

“Then, I shall give you the world. Every night, I shall let you know how much I love you in a hundred different ways. Every morning, when you wake up, I'll be by your side, whispering sweet nothings, telling you how beautiful you are, how your eyes look like the heavens when you're excited, how you are the bravest person I've ever met. Every day, I'll sing a ballad of praises for you. I will make you and this entire universe see how much you mean to me, because _lavēhsea_ , I’m so in love with you I might just burst, and dear Calypso, this went so much better in my head,” Roman told him, meaning each and every word, running a hand through his silken blond locks. Virgil almost leaned forward again, but- but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do this to Roman. No matter how much he wanted this, Roman deserved better. Someone who could take care of him through sickness and health, who could make him laugh at his darkest moments, who could love him unconditionally. Not someone who was too scared to speak their true feelings. Not him.

He began to pull away, feeling shame crawl up his neck like ivy, tiny tears in his eyes. “...I- I’m sorry, Roman,” he mumbled, seeing Roman’s entire face fall, utterly heartbroken. “I just don’t know what to say.” God, how _stupid_ was he? He slid off the window sill, ready to run for his room and lock the door and face the torrent of feelings that would inevitably break him down once more. But something held him back. He looked back to see Roman clutching the hem of his hoodie’s sleeve, looking out at the stars as if he couldn’t bare to see what sort of betrayal he would find in the earthling’s eyes.

“...then, don’t say anything,” Roman said, voice cracking at the end as he stood up, his wings fluttering in time with his racing heart. He let go of Virgil’s hoodie to stare him straight in the eyes, his own orbs full of sadness and trepidation, hope and love, every feeling known and beyond. “Just do.”

Virgil acted without thinking, finally letting his heart take control.

His eyes closed before his lips hit Roman’s, missing the pure happiness flood Roman’s face for a split second before his own eyes closed, the tears in their eyes turning to those of euphoria. No more hiding behind flirtatious jokes, behind stolen glances when the other wasn’t looking, behind sleepless nights when all they could do was hope the feeling of want would pass. No more secrets, no more lies wasted on covering the truth. No more.

His teeth clacked against Roman’s, and he hit his forehead painfully as he lurched forward, but the two couldn’t have cared less. He adjusted quickly, moving his lips against the prince’s passionately, tasting seasalt and caramel. It was a gentle, chaste kiss that made his head swim, dizzy with joy. A laugh found its way out of his throat, relieved and ecstatic, until the feeling of Roman’s lips left his, accompanied by a soft gasp. His opened his eyes to find Roman was gone, replaced by a large butterfly, its wings the color of cotton-candy.

“Roman?” he asked incredulously, another laugh making its way out of him. He remembered something about the prince’s race, how they could transform into the animal whose features they had. Roman had never been successful. “Oh, my God, Roman, you transformed! You did it!” he said, giddy adrenaline still coursing through his body. In the blink of an eye, Roman was back, smiling widely.

“I did it!” he cried, his arms flapping wildly. “I actually did it!” The prince let loose a whoop, grabbing Virgil’s arms and pulling him into another hug. Virgil, however, took Roman’s face in his hands, kissing him again, a much better attempt than their first one. They parted for breath, smiling as they pressed their foreheads together. “Thank you,” Roman breathed. “Thank you for everything, Anxiety.” Virgil’s heart stopped for a second, the correction halfway pass his lips before he bit down. Oh, _why_ did they have to have had a heartfelt moment? “Is something wrong?” Roman prodded gently.

“I just… oh, great, I’m actually considering it,” he sighed loudly. Roman tilted his head. “Do you… want to know… my name? No, wait, that sounds stu-”

“Your name?” Roman echoed. Realization spread across his face. “I... I would, actually.” Virgil bit his lip, still unsure if he wanted to finally let go of the last bit of mystery he had kept all these years, let go of the last piece of the mask he always wore, and finally let himself be seen for who he truly was. “I don’t care what it is,” Roman said, before realizing his mistake. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” he blurted as Virgil hid a small giggle at how purely _Roman_ it was. “I meant to say, I’m going to like it no matter what it is, be it Bastian or Zyneth,” he promised. Virgil snickered.

“Bastian?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s my middle name, so it’s the first name my mind went to,” Roman explained, shrugging. Virgil laughed before growing quiet.

“...Actually, my name is… my name is… Virgil. Virgil Sorge,” he nearly whispered, his voice so soft Roman hardly heard it. Once the name passed his ears, though, Roman grew still, alarming Virgil. “D-do you not like it?”

“Of course I do!” Roman exclaimed, calming Virgil’s fears. “It’s beautiful. I love it, Virgil,” he said, pecking the earthling on the nose, who blushed and swatted the prince away. “And I love you,” he added. Virgil blushed harder.

“Geez, you’re really going all in, aren’t you?” he said. After a moment of consideration, he carried on. “I love you, too… I’ve loved you ever since the night I met you, and you helped through one of my panic attacks,” he confessed. Roman hugged him before pulling back.

“That long?” he asked. Virgil nodded slowly, a ghost of a smile across his lips as he thought back to the feeling of Roman’s thumbs caressing his knuckles, his voice sweet and melodic in his ears that night. “I’ll make this well worth the wait, then,” Roman swore seriously.

“I appreciate the effort, Princey, but this isn’t a romance novel,” Virgil joked, smirking. “And, anyways, I think we should at least talk through stuff.”

“Like what?” the prince asked, tilting his head. Virgil whacked his arm playfully.

“Like, what exactly we are right now? Are we lovers? Are we boyfriends? Do intergalactic outlaws even date? Do we tell anyone just yet or do we keep stuff on the downlow until we get everything all figured out?” Virgil expounded, ready to go through an entire list of questions.

“Stop, stop, stop, too many questions, my little thunderstorm,” Roman said.

“Would you stop calling me that?” Virgil whined. Roman chuckled, wrapping his arms around Virgil’s waist.

“Come now, you like it, don’t you?” he teased. Virgil covered his blushing face with his hands, whining. “Aw, you’re so cute,” Roman cooed, snuggling close to Virgil. “Shall we head to my room so we may have some privacy as we talk things over?” Virgil nodded, clasping Roman’s hand tightly. The prince smiled, biting his lip as his thumb brushed over the back of Virgil’s hand.

The two headed straight for Roman’s room, careful to avoid the med bay and kitchen, the most likely places their companions would be. They could barely contain the emotions running freely through their veins, small laughs escaping them as they unlocked Roman’s door and ran inside.

“Oh, God, think of how Patton’ll react,” Virgil laughed as the two collapsed on Roman’s bed, the cherry covers wrinkling under their body weight. Roman’s laughter joined Virgil’s. He sighed, throwing his body onto Virgil’s lap as the latter yelped in surprise.

“Imagine how _Logan_ will react,” Roman gushed as the two collapsed in laughter again. Virgil ran a hand through his hair, unable to stop himself from imagining the emotionless robot from going on a tirade about how illogical love was, being only chemical impulses sent out by neural synapses. Roman sighed as the adrenaline in their bodies ebbed away. “What do you want to talk about?” he asked, turning over to look at Virgil.

“I don’t really know. I guess we should establish what we are,” he mumbled, shrugging.

“Well, what do you wish us to be, Virgil?” Roman inquired. Virgil thought for a moment before answering.

“Lovers, I guess. But I… I want to be more than that, you know? More than two people who like each other, who’ve kissed a couple times. I want to be… I don’t how to describe it. Like, I want to be by your side all my life, I want to kiss you as much as I can, I want to love you without anyone deciding for me who I should love,” Virgil ranted, falling back onto the pillow-laden bed with a sigh.

“When I was younger, I used to hear this word- “ _emaja_ ”- when people were talking about my parents. Colloquially, it loosely translates to “soulmates”, but with more of an emotional and less of a spiritual significance. I’ve always wanted to have someone look at me the way Mom and Pa did, to know the sort of love they shared with one another.” Roman paused, watching Virgil. “I think I’d like to be your _emaja_. Is that okay with you?” Virgil wouldn’t admit it, but he loved hearing that word and how it rolled so easily off of Roman’s tongue.

“Yeah. I’d really like to be your _emaja_ ,” Virgil said, sitting up again, Roman adjusting himself so that his head was in the earthling’s lap. “Don’t fall asleep on me, Princey,” Virgil warned, wagging a finger at him. Roman laughed again. God, Virgil loved that sound. He could listen to it forever and still not get tired of it, still wish he could hear it more.

They fell into another comfortable silence as Virgil tried his best to move around to a more comfortable position without disturbing Roman. Virgil ended up resting on the wall, legs bent beside him, Roman’s head still in his lap, fiddling with a little string on the bed sheets. “It feels wrong,” Virgil spoke up. “To be here, happy and calm, while Cal is an inch from madness and Patton and Logan are running around trying to save them from themself. It feels like we should be by Cal’s side instead of each other’s.” Roman hummed in agreement. “Are we bad people, for doing this?” Virgil asked, glancing down at Roman’s wide blue eyes.

“Virgil,” the prince began, “I know this isn’t the most opportune time for us to have confessed, but whatever happens, happens. We cannot know how our choices will play out, we only live by their consequences. That’s life. So if my heart says I love you, well, I’ll love you as I sit by Cal’s side, I’ll love you as they wake up, I’ll love you today and tomorrow and forever. If that makes us bad people, for trying to live as we were taught to do, I’ll gladly accept that fate for you.”

The earthling stared dumbfounded at the prince, touched by his words. “You’re really making me want to kiss you, y’know,” he muttered. “But I’ve only just gotten comfortable, so fat chance, Princey,” he added, smirking.

“You mean you wouldn’t give up comfort for me? Oh, the heathenism!” Roman cried dramatically, throwing a hand over his heart. Virgil rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out. “I can’t believe you! I take back everything I said, I don’t like you and I’m leaving,” he said theatrically, rolling off the bed to hit the floor with a yelp of pain. “Virgil, aren’t you going to help me?” he asked from the floor.

“Nah, I’m good. I get the whole bed to myself now!” Virgil exclaimed triumphantly, throwing his body across the whole bed to sink into the mattress. Roman groaned as he got up, tackling Virgil on the bed. The two wrestled for a while, laughing the entire time, before Virgil got tired and went limp.

“Aha! Do you admit defeat, my little angry kitten?” Roman asked, looking down at his lover.

“I’ll never admit defeat if you keep calling me stupid nicknames like that!” Virgil complained, once again swatting the prince. Roman chuckled, leaning down to peck Virgil’s nose.

“You really are so cute, Virgil,” Roman cooed, collapsing on Virgil, whose breath went out of him with a loud wheeze. “And rather comfy, too,” he commented as he rolled off of the emo, who gasped for breath.

“How much have you eaten today?”

“Hey! I don’t eat _that_ much,” Roman cried indignantly. “Maybe a little more than I should, but doesn’t that just mean there’s more of me to love?”

“Tell that to my now aching muscles, Roman,” Virgil groaned, snuggling close to him. “When do we tell everyone else?” he asked quietly, playing with some strands of blond hair that had fallen over Roman’s eyes. Roman hummed, thinking.

“We should tell Patton as soon as the time’s right, and probably Logan, too. Cal, though… I guess we tell them when they get better,” he mused.

“ _If_ they get better,” Virgil sighed.

“Now, now, circumstances will always improve, my dear. Cal is going to be fine. Just you wait and see,” Roman insisted.

“Oh, come on, now you sound like Logan,” Virgil groaned, chuckling sadly. “No offense to him, but I don’t think he’s a very lovey-dovey person, so he’s not my type.” Roman raised an eyebrow.

“So you’re type is ‘lovey-dovey’, eh?” he teased. Virgil huffed, burying his face in Roman’s chest.

“Shut up,” he whispered, breathing in the scent of Roman, which reminded him so much of home. The prince only smiled, kissing the top of Virgil’s head.

“Shall we go find Patton and Logan and see how Cal’s doing?” Roman asked, despite squeezing Virgil tighter. Virgil hummed, untangling himself from the mess of limbs and clothing, stretching his arms. “Almost feels like nothing’s changed, doesn’t it?” he mused out of nowhere. Virgil glanced at Roman, cocking an eyebrow. “I mean, we do this sort of stuff all the time,” he said, smiling, likely reminiscing all the times they’d wrestled or joked with one another, just one secret away from letting their walls fall flat where they stood. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Does this mean you’ll still be an obnoxious jerk half the time?” he challenged playfully, shoving Roman away from him so he could twist his body into a sitting position as the prince gasped offendedly, clutching his heart.

“Of course! I thought you knew that!” the prince replied, rolling off the bed onto his feet, one arm outstretched towards Virgil. “Shall we continue life as though nothing has happened?” he offered.

“I mean, I’ve been doing that for a while now. Shouldn’t be too hard,” Virgil scoffed smugly. “Anyways, let’s go find the other two. They’re going flip their shit when we tell them.” Virgil grabbed Roman’s hand, hopping off the bed, and the two walked out of Roman’s room. Virgil felt like a weight had been taken off of his shoulders. For so long, he had been so anxious of speaking up, so terrified of making the wrong move. If he had lost any one of his dear friends, he would surely finally crack enough that the depravity he kept dammed up inside would come flooding out, drowning those he loved dearly. That fear was still present, rooted deep with the darkest corners of his mind.

But he wouldn’t let the fear control him. He would make Roman happy. Lord knew he deserved it. Virgil sighed, watching his new _emaja_ pull him along to the med bay. His heart was still a rock song’s beat, pounding in his chest as though the drummer was using mallets rather than drumsticks. He could clearly recall the moment he had realized why his heart fluttered every time the prince sent a smile towards his way. They had visited a magical planet, everything made of love and beauty. Virgil had been scared of stepping off the ship, fearful of damaging the gorgeous flowers that grew everywhere, their lilac, translucent petals too beautiful for someone like him to be looking upon them. It had been Roman who had held his arms out like he was waiting for Virgil, coaxing the nervous earthling to step off the metal ramp and onto the ground, where the flowers had immediately leaned towards him as though welcoming them.

Roman had laughed at Virgil’s little gasps of wonder, a loud bellow that sent shivers down his spine, and the human had looked up at the prince. It was though time had slowed down, if only for that moment, and he could see the pure joy etched across Roman’s face as though he hadn’t laughed in years. And it was because of _him_. Not Patton and his jokes. Not Logan and his hilariously infuriated attitude. _Him_. He couldn’t deny how his heart skipped one too many beats and how his breath hitched. He couldn’t deny his feelings any longer. But he sure as hell could hide them, protect the delicate friendship he had built with the prince.

No longer would he hide. No longer would he play pretend. He had Roman now, and as much as he wanted to believe this was all a dream, the feeling of rough calluses rubbing up against his palm was real enough for him to believe in himself, in Roman, and in this thing between them called love.

As they walked into the med bay still clutching each other’s hand as if letting go would end this ever so perfect moment, Virgil let his head turn to the prince’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of home. Patton’s head snapped up as their footsteps echoed in the sorrowful silence of the med bay. His soft eyes were filled with tears and terror, clearly upset by Cal’s perilous state; however, the concern in his blue orbs softened gazing at the two of them.

“You’re back, that’s good,” the shapeshifter whispered in an unusually raspy voice. Virgil’s breath hitched as he noticed the faint redness around Patton’s eyes and across his cheeks, the happiness from earlier fading away quickly. He felt Roman’s hand tighten in his grasp. The Drisine glanced back at the sleeping pirate. “Cal woke up while you were gone.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to hear the hollowness in Patton’s ordinarily cheer-infused voice. Nor did it take a genius to hear Cal’s uneven, shallow breaths and nearly inaudible whimpers of nightmares.

“I’m guessing it didn’t go well?” Roman asked. Patton sighed, nodding heavily. “Would some good news perhaps sate your worries?” The shapeshifter’s eyes shot wide with hope as Roman held up his and Virgil’s interwoven hands with a smidge of pride.

Patton’s eyes narrowed as he studied the hands, widening as he realized its connotation. “You? And Anxiety?” he asked with enthusiasm, a ghost of a grin gracing his lips. Virgil nodded shyly, feeling the apprehension ebb away. “Oh, dear Calypso, what will Logan think?” Patton blurted suddenly, shaking his head with disbelief. The three traded glances and nodded in unison, all knowing that the robot would declare it illogical and frustrating and proceed to sulk for the next hour. “Well, we should settle in for the night. It’ll take a handful to help Cal recover as quickly as possible tomorrow, and we want to be as well-rested as we can be. So, off to bed, you two!” Patton ordered, shooing the lovebirds out of the med bay.

“I guess we really can’t do anything but sleep now, can we?” Virgil said, smirking. The prince nodded as they headed back to the dorms. “S-see you in the morning, Roman,” the earthling stuttered, unable to keep the dopey smile off of his face.

“Good night, Virgil,” the Vasryian mumbled, bringing Virgil’s hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles gingerly as Virgil felt his cheeks explode with color. They unlocked their hands and ducked their heads as they passed by each other to enter their respective rooms.

As the door closed behind him with a soft click, Virgil felt the air rush out of him. Dear Lord, that had gone better than planned. Half of him had expected Roman to be disgusted at his confession when the time finally came that the feelings beating in his heart were unable to remain unnamed. The other half insisted he never speak a word. The fact that _Roman_ , who flirted with every being they met, had been the first one to break the tangible silence between them… that in of itself was enough to reassure Virgil that this wasn’t a joke, this wasn’t a dream.

Virgil threw off his tunic, changing into a thin nightshirt as he swapped his tight jeans for much more comfortable sweatpants. He sighed as he crawled into bed, hugging a small skeleton plushie he’d bought at a black market a year or two ago. To be honest, he was glad he and Roman had finally told each other the truth. But to be _truly_ honest, he was scared about what it meant now. He was beyond terrified of losing Roman, and now that they had thrown themselves headfirst into an intergalactic revolution, the thought was gaining more credence. He was beyond terrified of finding out it had just been a spur-of-the-moment decision in the heat of war that Roman had confessed. He was beyond terrified that Roman would stop loving him. He was beyond terrified that he would stop loving Roman.

He bit his lip harshly, focusing on anything other than _that_.

“It’s alright, Virge,” he mumbled aloud, the words falling flat in the emptiness of the room. “Just take things one day at a time, and enjoy each and every moment. You’re going to be fine, Roman’s going to be fine, Cal’s going to wake up, and we’re all going to beat Draven’s ass and live happily ever after.” Virgil felt his eyes begin to flutter close.

He could do this. He’d confessed, he’d kissed Roman- heck, _Roman had kissed back_. He could do this. He just had to take things one day at a time. And it would be a hell of a lot easier knowing that Roman would be by his side every step of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can't hear it but i'm laughing manically because i know exactly what happens to roman at the end of the story
> 
> mwahahahaha


	15. Return to Vasryia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cal recovers from their time in the Vasryian dungeon. Luckily, they've got their friends to help them out.
> 
> TW: Mild language, mental recovery, mentions of hallucinations and imprisonment, possession, heavy angst (heh)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH SWEET CALYPSO IT’S BEEN A WHILE.  
> Apologies for taking so long! I’ve been a little caught up with schoolwork and extracurriculars (whoops). I hope this is worth it for you all! :D

The light still bothered them. It blinded their eyes and reminded them of the darkness of the dungeon, which in turn made them recall those awful visions that had shaken them so badly.

Patton would come in every morning, patient and understanding as he tried his best to convince them the visions were just that- hallucinations of a terrified mind. He and the others were unraveling the seed of doubt that had been rooted on their mind, weeding it out as best they could.

For now, they buried themself in their blanket, trying to block out the light.

“Hey, Cal,” a soft voice whispered as they heard someone enter. “How are you doing?”

“Too bright.” They burrowed deeper into the throes of their blankets, groaning. “Too dark. Too loud. Too quiet. There’s no happy middle. There’s no happy,” they mumbled, still delirious from another night spent unable to sleep without finding themself back in that miserable cell.

“Would you like me to dim the lights?” Patton asked, voice calm and reassuring. They nodded. They paid no mind as the Drisine waved a hand, the ship magically knowing exactly how dark Patton wanted the room to be. “Is that better?”

“Yeah,” they mumbled, rolling over. They felt the cot sink towards the middle as Patton sat down. They opened their mouth, trying to find the right words to speak, and closed it, finding nothing but ancient verses that had played upon lips for generations.

“Hey, Cal, why don’t you tell me a story? You seem to be a good storyteller, if Sleeping Stars was any indication,” Patton giggled. Cal felt a ghost of a smile on their lips before it disappeared. “It doesn’t have to be anything in particular. Just something you like.” They sighed, racking their mind for a story.

“Alright,” they mumbled, turning back over. “But it’s a stupid story.”

Patton sent them a sweet smile. “I bet it’s not as stupid as you think. We’re so focused on beating out the bad, we forget all the good inside of us. I know you’re focused on the bad inside you right now, Cal, but I’ll always make sure you remember all the good.” Their heart twinged, touched by his meaningful words.

They sucked in a breath, letting it out as a hiss between their teeth. “Right.” They hesitated, glancing at Patton for his reaction. He grinned patiently, grabbing their hand and squeezing it. “This story begins long, long ago, on a planet far, far away. There was a little… little child.” Their words lulled, feeling a familiar haze in the back of their mind. _No!_ They had to fight it. They had to fight it, for Patton.

“This little child loved the stars. To them, the stars were beings. To them, the stars were the only family they had. Now, the little child had… a _fair_ amount of enemies. The child said they were strong, and got hurt because of it. But the child ran away. They ran far, far away, hoping that if they ran far enough they could land among the stars. They found a family. One they loved very much.” Patton straightened, his hand squeezing ever so slightly harder, as if knowing where this story was headed.

“But then, a monster came. A snake, which the little child was so terrified of. Their family disappeared, one by one, until all that was left were the voices in their head. The child said they were strong, and got hurt because of it. But the child ran away again, still reaching for those stars that never got any closer no matter how much they ran.” They faltered, feeling tears prick at the back of their eyes.

“What happened to the child?” Patton asked knowingly, watching Cal carefully for their body language. They had let go of the blanket, which was good enough for him.

“The child was alone. For… a long, long time. They lived in a small apartment with six other children just like them, doing what they had to do to survive. They couldn’t see the stars anymore. For the first time in their life, the child felt truly alone.” Patton let out a soft gasp, his heart wrenching with empathy.

“Did they… find a family?” Patton asked softly, letting his thumb run over Cal’s knuckles.

“…yes.” Patton held his breath, anxious as to what this family was like. “The child found another family… but… as wonderful as this family was, as much as the little child loved them, they were still just a little child, scared, needy, and alone. And they wanted to be strong, they did, but to them it seemed that every time they tried to be, something would come along to prove how weak they really were. And they didn’t want their family to get hurt because of it, because soon enough they would see it, too- how worthless they were, how… how… _broken_ they were.”

“And… how does this story end?” he inquired, treading carefully. Cal looked him straight in the eyes, the usual light inside of them gone.

“I don’t know.” Their voice wobbled dangerously.

“…would you mind if I added on to it?” Cal shrugged. “Well, let’s say there’s a little shapeshifter, who’s been misunderstood all his life, told to calm down, to be serious, to smile once in a while. This little shapeshifter met the little child, and they became family. The child is scared, but the shapeshifter believes in them. He believes in their bravery, in their strength, and in their love. If _I_ were that little shapeshifter, I would tell that child that I love them very much, and that… it’s okay to be scared sometimes.”

Cal let their eyes flicker up to meet Patton’s, full of love and patient understanding. “Patton… you know… you know, I’m that little child, right?” Patton nodded softly.

“I know, Cal.”

“I’m so scared, Patton.”

“I know, Cal. I am, too. Draven… he’s extremely powerful. But… so are you.” He let his head drop, studying the creases in his pants. “I know something happened to you back in that dungeon, something awful. You don’t think we love you.” Cal bit their lip, scared of what Patton was going to say. “Cal, you said it yourself, you found a family. And family doesn’t leave each other. So, believe me when I say, I’m not leaving your side. You’re a sibling to me, I could never lose my love for you. No power in this universe, not even Calypso herself, could make me stop loving you, Cal. You mean too much to me for that to happen. So, please, believe me that I love you.”

Cal broke their gaze, their voice cracked and raspy as they whispered, “…I do,” so quick Patton half-thought they hadn’t even said anything.

Patton’s smile grew wider, now confident of how the little child’s story was going to end.

A sharp, insistent knock interrupted the serene peace of the med bay. Cal jumped, eyes growing with fear. Patton gave their hand a quick pulse, reassuring them everything was alright.

“My dear Cal, how are you feeling today?” came from the doorway. Cal shifted on the cot, pushing themself up to see Roman leaning against the doorway, one eyebrow cocked playfully. They shrugged.

“No happy,” they mumbled, rubbing their eyes. They didn’t miss the concerned look Roman sent to Patton. “No sad. I don’t feel anything. I _can’t_ feel anything.”

“Patton, would you mind if I spoke with Cal privately for a few minutes?” Roman asked. The Drisine nodded, leaving the room with a quiet farewell to Cal. Roman took his friend’s place on the cot. “Sweet Calypso, I don’t really know where to start.” Cal titled their head.

“Start with what?”

“After… what happened back ho- on Vasryia… we’ve started something, Cal. All five of us. I don’t think we can end it without you. But we’re not going to do anything until you think you’re ready. And I want to help you. I’m just not exactly sure how to do that.” Roman sighed, looking up at the ceiling for inspiration. “Your first night after… all that, do you remember anything that you said? You were… beyond delirious, to say the least.”

“N-no,” they whispered, shaking their head. “It’s all fuzzy.” Roman let out a breath, pressing his lips together.

“Well, you said that, while you were in the dungeon, you had these… visions. We apparently told you we didn’t love you or need you, which couldn’t be further from the truth, in my opinion. Of any matter, according to Patton and Logan, you’re still suffering from… what was that word? Corgitive disproportions? Perhaps it was cognitive disproportions? Well, no matter, I’m fairly sure he can explain it better than me, anyways.” Roman tsked, faltering again. “I suppose… I suppose I’m trying to show you that I _do_ love you, Cal. You’re the leader I wish I could be. Y-you’re strong, and brave, and gentle, and quick-thinking, and everything I’m not. I really _do_ care for you, Cal.” The prince fell silent.

“And to prove it, there’s something I think you should have seen a long time ago.” Roman tilted his head up at the ceiling once more as if asking the stars for guidance, and let out a heavy breath, his eyes falling shut. He grabbed the hem of his breeches’ right leg and pulled it past the knee, revealing the secret Roman had kept hidden for so long.

Cal inhaled sharply as their eyes ran over the burn scars, taking in every detail. “What… Roman, what happened?” Roman let go of the hem, his breath uneven and shaking.

“Draven happened.” Cal watched in shocked silence as he swallowed the growing lump in his throat. “He… burned my parents at the stake. I would have burned at his hands, too, if it weren’t for Patton.” Cal shuddered at the thought. “Both my physical and mental scars hurt. Yours likely do, as well. But when I think of you and the others, I know none of you leave me behind. It goes both ways, Cal. Whenever your scars hurt too much for you to walk, let us carry you. We’d never leave you behind.”

Cal blinked back hot tears threatening to spill over their eyelashes. Again, they felt the haze in the back of their mind. _No, no!_ They had to fight it. They had to fight it, for Roman. “You’re part of our family, Cal. Whether you like it or not, we’re here for you for the rest of your life. That’s a promise.” Cal nodded slowly, willing themself to believe Roman’s desperate words. “I’ll leave you to rest, now.” He stood up and headed for the door. Cal whimpered softly. They had to say something, let Roman know it was going to be alright.

“For the record, Princey?” Roman stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I think you’re a _great_ leader.” He smiled and bid them farewell, more hopeful than he had ever been those past weeks.

Anxiety was the next to come to Cal. He found them in the Commons, curled up on the couch, eyes staring off into space. He saddled up next to them, sharing the silence, hoping they would be the one to break it.

“Do you like stars?” Anxiety jumped, startling at the broken quietude. Cal was eyeing him. He could see a sharp, pointed look in their eyes, something he hadn’t seen in a while. They could see him relax. _Roman had been right. Cal was going to be okay._ “Do you like stars?” they repeated. Anxiety nodded, a soft smile coming to his face.

“Stars are my favorite thing to look at,” he mumbled.

“Besides Roman,” they quipped. Anxiety choked on his breath. “I’ve seen the way you look at him. You love him, don’t you?” He supposed honesty was something Cal needed most right now, and nodded.

“Don’t get me wrong; it doesn’t change how much I love you, or Patton, or Logan, or anybody. I’ll still fight beside you to my last breath. I just… love Roman in a different way.” Cal’s lips quirked up bittersweetly.

“I wish I had someone who loved me like that.”

“Cal!” Anxiety spluttered. “We love you, don’t we? I know the love of a friend is much different than that of a lover, but trust me when I say that both are incredible and _neither_ should be looked down upon or seen as better than the other. Yes, a lover is wonderful, and amazing, and exhilarating, and a slew of words that make no sense, but so is a friend. A friend is just as important, Cal. We’re _definitely_ not lovers, but we are definitely friends. And you are just as important to me as Roman is.”

They exhaled slowly, glancing away. “You know what I like about stars? They’re omnipresent. No matter where you are, the stars will still be there, recording your history when no-one else will. If I could ask a star a question, I’d ask them to tell me a story.”

Anxiety joined in. “Even during the day, they’re still there. They’ve seen some terrible things, but they’ve probably also seen some pretty awe-inspiring stuff.”

“Yeah.”

Once more, they fell into a comfortable silence, enjoying the quietude of each other’s presence. “If it makes any difference, I think if the stars ever told your story, it would be the greatest epic ever told.” Cal snorted, shaking their head.

“And what would the stars say about you?”

“They’d tell the story of a earthen boy who thought he ran away from home, only to find his _real_ home was among the stars, living in a spaceship with four aliens who became a family to him.” He stopped suddenly, biting his lip harshly. “And… they’d call him… Virgil.” Cal gasped, eyes widening.

“Your name is… Virgil?” Anxiety- Virgil- flushed, ducking his head. “That’s a nice name. I would’ve pegged you for an Aarun, or maybe Ragaroth, but Virgil?” Virgil glanced at Cal, worried. “I like Virgil much better.” The human smirked. Cal’s smile fell. “I know you guys love me, and I know you’d never leave me, but there’s this little voice in the back of my head telling me one day you guys are just going to walk away…”

“I know the feeling. There’s nothing you can really do to make the voice go away, but with time, you’ll learn to drown it out. And trust me, Cal, your voice is loud enough to drown it out.” Cal laughed against their will.

Without warning, Cal enveloped Virgil in a hug, their hands shaking behind his back. “Thank you, Virgil. Thank you.” Virgil, though hesitant at first, felt the nerves ebb away, and wrapped his arms around Cal. They felt the haze, but they knew they could fight it. They could fight it, for Virgil.

They were expecting Logan when he finally found a proper time to speak with them. Cal was perched upon a windowsill, gazing at the stars dancing across the heavens. He sat down on across from them on the sill, his eyes fluttering over the stars like a bird that couldn’t sit still. After the silence stretched on for too long and Logan began squirming on the windowsill, he abruptly turned to Cal. “You know what I’m going to talk about, correct?” Cal nodded halfheartedly, shrugging.

He coughed, adjusting his always immaculate tunic. “Right. You are suffering from cognitive distortions- in this case filtering, where you only focus on the negative aspects of something, in this case yourself, while filtering out all of the positive aspects. Now, it seems the others have done fairly well in enlightening you of those positive aspects you are currently filtering out. So that is not my intention today.”

The robot ran a hand through his hair. “I’m… not quite sure what my intention is. I… I only seek to show you your strengths.” He focused once more on the stars, faltering. “Forgive me, I’ve never really found myself at a loss for words…”

“You don’t always need to express yourself through words, y’know… actions can speak just as loud,” Cal advised. Logan gave a pointed look to the pirate.

“Then forgive me if I make you uncomfortable,” he said as he threw his arms around them. Though Cal couldn’t say they hadn’t been expecting it, it still made a soft smile come to their lips as they leaned into his side, taking comfort in the rhythmic pulse of his artificial heart. “My systems detect a lowered heart rate. Am I correct in assuming this is what’s called ‘comfort’?” Cal nodded as Logan let out a long sigh.

“It’s been two weeks,” he started. “I’m not saying you should be fully recovered by now; that would be absurd, you’re the only one who can determine the pace at which you continue. However, I think it must be said that we have to finish what we started. Vasryia is still under Draven’s control- only the stars know how many people are at risk if we let things remain unchanged. We have to act, and soon.” Once more, Logan huffed, letting his head rest against the side of Cal’s, unsure if his words were having any affect.

“We can’t do this without you. You have become a leader in the short time you’ve been with us. When I first met you, I would have written you off for a rowdy, insensitive adventurer who cared for alcohol, gold, and little else, but you… you are _so_ much more than that, Cal. You are brave and caring and selfless and strong, and you’re our leader. We can’t do this without you, Cal. When you’re ready, we’ll be waiting for your calls.” Logan swallowed nervously and added quietly, “I know this shall seem out-of-character on my part, but… _please_. We need you, Cal. _I_ need you.”

He had yet to get a reaction from the pirate. The AI frowned, releasing Cal from his grasp. He stood up, brushing off nonexistent dust from his trousers, and headed back for the cockpit, his mood sinking.

A laugh from behind him stopped him in his tracks. He whirled around to see Cal. Only… something was different in them. Maybe it was the way they were holding themself. Maybe it was the shit-eating grin on their face. His grey eyes met their multicolored ones and he saw what was so different about them. The spark of danger in their eyes, which had been absent since their kidnapping, was back. Cal noticed Logan’s speechlessness at the suddenness of it all.

“I… don’t know what came over me. It feels like I've… come awake. I’ve been asleep for too long. It’s about time that I wake up.” Logan couldn’t help but grin. Cal was back. Logan felt a rare, relieved laugh bubble out of him as he shook his head. Cal was really back. “Should we head to the cockpit?”

Logan dipped his head in acquiescence, and they began to race each other. Normally Logan would never participate in such activities, but right now he was unable to fight those errors in his programming. And for the first time since his creation, he enjoyed those glitches.

They practically burst into the cockpit, startling those inside. “Look who I found,” Logan breathed. Cal smirked, striking a small pose. It seemed all air had been sucked out of the room as Roman, Virgil, and Patton fell silent.

“Well, don’t all speak once,” they joked. They yelped as they were engulfed in a unexpected hug from their friends. Something warm and wet trickled down their cheek as they choked on a voiceless sob. Their breath cut off with the realization that they were crying. They cuddled against their friends as fat tears rolled down their face. Cal couldn’t explain it, this unforeseen overwhelm of emotion.

“Dear Calypso, I’m so happy to see that you’re feeling better, Cal!” Patton cried, crushing them in a tight, unyielding hug. They took a shaky breath, wiping the happy tears away from their eyes as they let their gaze fall on each of their friends.

“You all taught me that I have to rise above my pain. I have to move forward. I owe that much to you all for helping me through this, for helping me see the light.” The tears of relief and gratitude wouldn’t stop, pouring out of their eyes as though somebody had forgotten to turn off the faucet. As much as they wanted to stay forever in this loving embrace, stay forever in this little bubble of comfort, they knew they had unfinished business. They pulled back, wiping away the tears.

“Let’s have some fun, shall we?” They started for the center of the room, gearing up for the speech of the century. “We need to get to Vasryia as soon as possible. You’re right, Logan, countless scores of people may be at risk because of our- because of _my_ inaction, and that will only grow the more time we waste. We’ll get into the palace, we’ll get Draven alone somehow, and we’ll… we’ll…” They trailed off as their voice grew more desperate. Logan stepped forward sympathetically.

“With all due respect, Cal, I believe I might be best equipped with planning and strategy.” Cal flushed, nodding sheepishly.

Logan took a breath, meeting each of his companion’s eyes. “First, we’ll land in Vasryia, as far away as possible to walk so we can increase our chances of remaining hidden. I suggest we wait until we know for certain that Draven is within the throne room. Once that is confirmed, we can, in the words of Roman, ‘storm the palace’ and disarm the guards. Draven will be taken hostage; we’ll hold a trial stating all of his crimes- Cal, before you even start, it is necessary that we keep our hands as clean as possible if we wish to rally support from the common folk. Once we get to that point, we can reconvene and discuss what actions to take next. But, as of now, I believe this is as far as we should plan.” The robot turned to Cal.

“Would you like to add anything?” he asked. Cal blanched, their mind immediately forgetting what they wanted to say. They shook their head, cursing silently as their doubt welled up in their stomach as if their body was warning them they were making a bad decision.

“That settles it, then,” Roman said with a curt nod.

“I can’t believe we’re really going to do this,” Patton breathed.

“ _I_ can’t believe we haven’t _died_ yet,” Virgil joked, lightening the mood. Cal shot him a thankful smile.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” they asked, taking a step towards the window, where the heavens lay bare before them, eternal, silent witnesses to the history they were about to write. “We’ve got an ass to kick.”

  
  


They stepped onto the emerald blades of grass as wind whistled through their tousled hair. Cal took a deep breath, enjoying what they could before they crossed the boundary of no return. They turned back to their companions. “Let’s get going.”

Though they would’ve preferred to run under the cover of the night, they knew the clock had been ticking for a while. They had to do it now, or Draven would be able to claim victory. They couldn’t let that happen.

With little dialogue, they started for the palace gleaming in the distance. They took the time to glance about, feeling the bile rise in their throat as old memories starting popping up. They swallowed and marched on.

It took them only a few minute’s walk to come within the outer limits of the Vasryian palace. Cal let their guard drop for a moment. No matter how many times they had seen the palace, it never failed to impress them, standing stark and proud silhouetted against a cool blue sky.

“Roman, could you lead us to the outside of the throne room?” Logan inquired.

“Of course, my dear friends,” Roman replied with a smirk and a wink. Quietly, they snuck into the gardens, Cal cursing a little less than quietly when they tripped into a thornbush as Patton scolded their language and Virgil snickered with mirth at their misfortune.

It was funny, really, how domestic they were being, knowing full well they would either emerge victorious, or not emerge at all. Cal let their eyes fall on each one of their friends, admiring what they might never see again. They started with Logan. It didn’t take even a second for them to know they would miss his calming rationale and those little slips of character that reminded them that though he was a robot, he was just as alive as the rest of them. They moved onto Virgil. They would miss his sarcastic wit, for sure, and his always present smirk, as though everything was one big amusement to him.

With Roman, they would miss his charm that they found oh-so-hilarious, and that gentle, serious side of him that he seemed loathe to show. If they got out of this shitshow alive, they would make a point to tell Roman it was okay to let his guard drop sometimes. None of them would judge him.

And Patton. Calypso Above, they didn’t even know where to start. They would miss his smile, assuring them everything was going to be okay. They would miss his antlers that glowed blue and pink even in the dark. They would miss the way he found to make a joke out everything to help lighten the mood. They would miss his paternal mannerisms that made them feel safe. They would miss his hugs, which crushed them tight in his arms, never letting go until they could easily fall asleep in his arms. They would miss his cooking lessons, him telling them wild stories of past adventures, him staying up late at night to make sure they could go to sleep without any nightmares. A solitary tear trickled down their cheek as they inconspicuously shielded their face from prying eyes. Patton had been right. They had found their family.

All at once, Roman held up a hand, halting their actions. They came to a standstill as Roman ushered them behind a cluster of large bushes, a trio of guards idly wandering down the garden path, chatting with one another.

“I wonder when they’re going to fix the hole in the throne room?” one with rabbit’s ears was saying.

“Oh, yeah! It’s way too breezy in there now. Honestly! You’d think the King would be able to contract a capable architect by now,” another with red feathers interwoven in their hair quipped.

The third one, with a wolf’s tail peeking out from under their cloak, giggled softly. “Hush! If the King hears you, he’ll surely have your head!” The three burst out laughing as they walked away. Cal let out a breath they hadn’t realized they’d been holding in suspense.

“Did you hear that?” Roman whispered excitedly. “That hole we blasted last time is still there! We can sneak into the throne room that way!”

“I don’t know, Roman, it sounds like it might be a trap. Draven is a crafty little shit.” Virgil sighed, biting his lip nervously. Roman pressed a kiss to Virgil’s forehead.

“I know, _lavēhsea_ , but-”

“Um, excuse me, when the fuck did you two get together?” Cal cut in. “I know we’re probably about to die, but I’m not dying without finding out the truth!” Virgil pursed his lips, gulping as he gestured for Roman to explain.

“…well, the thing is… I, um… sort of maybe kissed Virgil while you were recovering in the med bay?” Roman replied, blushing furiously.

“Finally…” Logan muttered.

“Pardon me?”

“Nothing,” Logan said quickly. “Thank you for informing me of Anxiety’s name.” Roman suddenly paled as Virgil’s eyes darkened. Virgil turned to Roman, who swore under his breath.

“If we get out of this alive, Roman, there is going to be hell to pay.” Roman gulped, nodding intensely, as if his acceptance would lessen whatever punishment Virgil would dole out.

“Right, kiddos!” Patton interjected, clapping his hands. “As much as I would love to talk with you guys all day and have fun and be a family, we have a king to overthrow, remember?” Roman nodded ever more intensely and Virgil scoffed, rolling eyes playfully.

They continued their mission, creeping through the garden as they approached where the throne room was located. True to the gossip of the guards, the hole the Sanders Yersinia had blasted into the wall remained unrepaired, an easy entrance into the palace. Cal brushed off the tingle running down their spine. Everything would be fine.

Cal stopped and turned back to their friends. “I’m just going to say this really quick because I don’t really want to think about this, but if any one of us dies, I just you all to know that I love you and you’re family. It has been an honor and a joy to have gotten to know you all.”

“Oh, Cal, don’t say that!” Patton cried. “We’re going to be fine. We’ve got to be. None of us are going to die, I won’t let it happen!” He laughed weakly. Logan squeezed his shoulder in comfort.

They turned over their shoulder, staring at the hole in the wall. It was almost certainly a trap. But they’d gotten out of traps before. They could do it this time, too. They just had to make sure everyone else got out with them. They faced their family once more, putting on a bright smile. “Are you all ready?” Logan nodded solemnly. Patton returned their smile with a quivering grin. Roman, clasping Virgil’s hand within his own, gestured for Cal to lead the way.

They approached the hole with caution, wary that at any moment, guards would surround them and they wouldn’t even get to at least see Draven’s face. The hole was a good ten feet wide and nearly double as tall. Whoever had manned the blasters that day was a sloppy shot.

Cal could hear distant chatter from inside and chanced a peek. They saw Draven, seated on top his throne at the end of the room, focused on a man kneeling in front of the chair of ill-begotten power, who seemed to be frantically pleading with the king. Draven motioned to one of the guards, who was unhesitant in manhandling the poor innocent out of the room.

“Logan? What should we do?”

“Well, it’s now or never. I never thought I’d be saying this unsarcastically, but let’s storm the palace.” Cal was unable to keep the grin off their face as they gave a two-fingered salute before slipping through the hole.

They kept their back against the wall, hoping to buy enough time to actually formulate a plan of how to disarm the guards and take Draven hostage. They scooted closer to the corner, Patton and Logan following them; Roman and Virgil were on the opposite side of the hole. Roman began pantomiming wildly, pointing at himself and Virgil, and then pointing at Draven, thumping his wrists together like mock chains. Cal cocked an eyebrow but dipped their head in acquiescence, shrugging.

Somehow, they managed to sneak up behind a guard. They took a deep breath. They wouldn’t be able to turn back now. Cal steeled themself. They were ready, they would accept any and all consequences for their actions. Without another moment to spare for doubt, they grabbed the guard from behind, clamping down a hand on his mouth as he let out a yelp. They pulled out the guard’s blade, throwing the guard against the wall and stabbing the sword through his uniform’s cape, pinning him there.

The cry of the man had alerted his compatriots, who rushed at Cal. They heard a shout from across the way and cried out as they saw Roman and Virgil brought to their knees, struggling against their captors. Patton fell to the ground as Logan growled, taking out his own blade, baring it against the encroaching guards, little blue lights flickering in his grey eyes.

The guards swarmed them all at once as they swung their arms, cringing each and every time their fists found contact. One guard grabbed their right arm as another took hold of their left leg. Cal struggled against their restrainers, grunting. They felt their lungs clench as their mind raced. This wasn’t how it was going to end. They wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Cal let out a bone-chilling shriek as they ripped their arm from the hold of the guard, sending her tumbling to the ground with a cry. As soon as their arm was free, they grabbed the knife in their belt’s holster and gripped it tight, slashing at the guard holding their leg. The knife cut his clothes but did little physical damage.

Adrenaline was coursing through their veins by now as their lungs overexerted themselves trying to catch a breath. They swung their knife at the guards closing in on them, forcing them away and hurried for Patton and Logan.

“Are you guys okay?” they whispered as they helped Patton up from the ground. The Drisine nodded slowly, eyes darting around the room.

“Cease!” The unanticipated voice that rang out from across the room shocked every being into stillness. Draven, in all his deceptive glory, lounged across the throne as though the short-lived fight had been merely entertainment to him. He let out a dark chuckle as dread swirled in Cal’s stomach. “Let them go.” Cal sent Logan a worried glance as the guards disgruntledly released Roman and Virgil from their grasp and stepped out of reach. Draven’s cool gaze snapped to them.

“Do tell me why you’ve come, my darling Calrex,” he ordered, smirking as he clasped his hands together, expecting a great spectacle to be made.

Draven stared them down from the throne, daring them to answer as Cal felt their fists clench. They could sprint to him, slit his neck within a second, and the whole thing would be over before the guards could react. But they had to stick to the plan if they didn’t want any of their friends getting hurt.

“You’re going to pay for your crimes, Draven,” they stated fiercely, their voice carrying throughout the throne room. They could hear him scoff from where they stood.

Rather than respond, they saw him reach into the depths of his cloak, pulling out a small glass vial full of churning gases. They inhaled sharply, recognizing it. _Ragar_. They opened their mouth to speak but found themself unable to breathe, unable to form words, unable to save their friends.

Draven chucked the vial at them, the glass shattering on impact with the stones. The gases inside sprung free, filling the room as the king chuckled darkly, thinking of the devastation to come.

They heard Patton gasp beside them. “This is- this is what was in the Treasury!” He glanced up at Cal, panic in his eyes. “Everybody, cover your noses! You can’t breathe this stuff!” he yelled. Virgil immediately threw a hand to his face, holding his breath. Cal copied his movements, plugging their nose as the gases swirled around their face.

Coughing exploded from one side of the room and all eyes flickered towards Roman, who had been closest to the explosion. He fell to the ground, coughing, breathing heavily as he gasped for breath. Draven’s lips curled into a satisfied leer as he watched the chaos begin to unfold.

“Roman?” Virgil asked quietly as the prince calmed, his movements stilling. Cal could see the human clutching his hands behind his back, wringing them anxiously. “Please tell me you’re alright…” Virgil cautiously approached Roman, his hands shaking as he held them out to the Vasryian.

A dark laugh bubbled up from the prince’s throat. Virgil froze, the others watching in abject horror, terrified of what had befallen their beloved prince. Even the guards watched on in petrified silence. Roman gracefully pushed himself off the floor as the others flinched at what they saw.

As he rose, the Vasryian’s flower crown, which Cal had many a time admired for its rich, whimsical hues, drained to black before their very eyes. His eyes darkened to the same color, devoid of all the adventure and kindness they were known for. Cal felt their blood freeze, daring to take a much needed breath as the gases in the air began dissipating.

Draven surveyed the scene with little emotion, sparing a glance for the changed prince before ordering, “Dispose of them.”

Cal held their breath, waiting to see what the Vasryian would do. Roman reached into the satchel hanging by his side and drew a stone, tossing the bag limply to the floor. Within the moment, the stone transformed into the mythical Halo Sword. Roman’s eyes of the beast fell upon Virgil, who hadn’t moved a single muscle.

“You,” the marionette monarch said, jutting his chin towards the earthling.

“Roman, you don’t want to do this,” the human warned, his hands falling to his sides. “This isn’t you.” The prince cocked an eyebrow, uninterested in pleas from the broken. “I know you’re somewhere in there, Roman. Please, fight against… whatever happened,” he pleaded. Cal heard his voice crack. “Roman, you’re family. And family means nobody gets left behind. So God damn it all, Roman, I’m not leaving you behind. Please. I love you. You promised you would always be there for me if I was ever scared. Well, guess what, Princey? I’m fucking terrified out of my mind right now. So come back to me or I’ll tell everyone you’re a prince who breaks his promises.”

They heard him choke back a sob. “Please, Roman. Just come back to me.”

For a moment, they could see Roman swimming in those eyes, reaching out to Virgil, begging him to save him. But just as quickly as it came, the moment was gone as the puppet prince steeled, raising his sword, the point just barely touching the pale skin of the earthling’s neck. “Sorry to disappoint, then.”

Virgil fell to his knees as Cal felt the air rush out of them in shock. “Then kill me. Because if you haven’t realized by now, I would give my life for you, Roman.” The daring human stood up and took a step forward, challenging his love. “If my death means your peace, your happiness… I’ll gladly throw myself on the blade.” Virgil seemed deaf to the protests of his friends as he opened his arms, as if accepting the cruel fate that was to be handed to him. A faint aura of purple engulfed him as he bowed his head.

A sudden, booming voice ripped itself from the earthling’s throat. “ _Let him go!_ ” The command echoed through the room as Roman at once collapsed limp on the floor as though he had been cut free of some puppeteer’s strings controlling him from behind the scenes. Virgil gasped and rushed for his lover, cradling the unconscious prince.

The gates of Chaos had opened, letting the Generals run wild. Cal shot forward, racing for the usurper of a king, drawing out a sharp blade reflecting the warped face of the ruler. The robot and the Drisine pulled out their weapons, turning to the guards, ready to resume the fight.

Cal tackled Draven to the ground as he let out a yelp of surprise. They bared their fangs, growling as they pinned him against the ground, a wild craze growing in their eyes. “You’re going to pay, you fucking _bitch!_ ” they screamed as they drew their knife back, prepared to sink it deep into Draven’s flesh and finally end the cruel feud they had been locked in since the birth of the universe.

Without warning, Draven kicked their stomach, throwing them off of him as they groaned. He grabbed the discarded blade, twisted it in his hand as he stood up, creeping towards the recovering pirate. He rose above them like a snake towering above its next meal as they pushed themself off the floor, wiping away a trail of blood from their lip as they snarled, ears deaf to the chaos breaking loose around them.

He loomed over them with disdain, his head twitching to the side as he paused.

Cal used the momentary hesitation to hurl themself at him, knocking the breath out of both of them as they collided. Something fell out of Draven’s cape.

The odd, captivating stone Cal had seen in the Treasury tumbled to the ground as the fight raged on around them. They were drawn to it like Remy to alcohol and adventure as they rushed for the fallen stone, Draven mimicking their actions. They snatched it first, standing up triumphantly before a rush of air swept through the room, knocking down all but Cal, who blinked, and saw through the eyes of another being.

They stood in a barren desert, harsh winds whipping around them. A gargantuan beast stood before them, towering above them as its ashen body swayed dangerously back and forth. The serpentine beast opened its smokey mouth, wails of the damned echoing from the depths of its inky throat. “ _Damned Blood of Calypso!_ ” it screamed, its black eyes full of fury. It rushed at them, passing through them like a specter as their vision returned to reality. Draven lay on the floor as though dead, all others staring at them with wide-eyed wonder.

“Dear Calypso,” Patton breathed, breaking the awed silence.

“What? Am I bleeding?” Cal asked worriedly, examining their arms for wounds. They turned over their shoulder. “Holy _shit!_ ” They closed their eyes, opened them, and swore again, seeing bright, colorful wings spread out like the Guardian’s.

Logan stepped forward, rubbing his eyes in disbelief, as did the guard he had just been fighting. “Cal, I can’t explain what just happened, but it seems you’ve taken on the form of a-”

“Stargazer,” they finished. “The Guardians of Calypso’s legacy… But those are myths! Children’s stories! Not… not… _this_ …” They scrutinized their new wings with something near disgust, as though they were unworthy of such mystical beauty.

A growl sounded throughout the room, ending the second of amazement that had gripped every soul within the throne room. Draven was pushing himself off the ground, his movements jerky and dead-like.

“You meddling pirate!” he snarled, his voice deep and jutting, like a glitching hologram seven years too old. His head twitched again like the undead as the adrenaline began pumping through Cal’s veins, prophetic of the chaos inexorably approaching. Virgil, sensing the same storm on the horizon, began dragging Roman to safety away from the king.

The awakening prince groaned as he blinked hard, eyes fluttering open. “What in the name of Calypso is going on?” he mumbled drowsily. Virgil pointed grimly at Draven.

“I’m pretty sure we’re all about to die.”

As the Machiavellian monarch opened his mouth, black smoke began spilling out, engulfing Draven as a low scream echoed through the throne room. Cal covered their ears as they winced at the noise, stepping away from the king. The sable-colored fumes dispersed around the room, filling it. Cal began coughing, shielding their eyes from the toxic gases.

The smoke disappeared as soon as it had appeared, revealing Draven in all his insipid glory. But what they saw was not Draven.

Instead of the deceitful king, a monstrous beast stood in his place, taking the form of a serpent. Cal thought back to that day in the orphanage, of Cato transforming into the same such creature and sliding towards them, swaying. The serpent before them now was a carbon copy, approaching them with glittering black eyes.

“Guys, I think now would be a good time to run!” they shouted. They turned on their heel, wasting no time in grabbing the arm of the person closest to them, who happened to be a guard, and racing for the gaping hole in the wall. They clambered outside, trying their best to not trip over their feet.

They let themself slow to a stop as soon as they were several feet away from the palace walls. They bent over themself, panting heavily, wincing as another low shriek was emitted from within.

Cal looked up, relieved to find their friends had all escaped the throne room as well. It seemed the guards who had left with them had abandoned their plight, letting their weapons drop to the ground. All attention was turned to the palace.

An ominous rumble rang out, bringing with it a hallmark of doom. Cal gulped, their new wings beating nervously. The serpent slithered out of the palace wall, creeping towards them and their friends.

“ _Descendant of the Heavens, you shall either perish or emerge victorious today. And I shall make sure only the stars can recount what happens!_ ” echoed across the rolling hills of the Vasryian landscape.

The serpent seemed in grow, grow, grow, until it could taste the heavens with its forked tongue. Cal thought back to their childhood and the myths they had muttered throughout it. At long last, they finally saw the truth and understood.

The myth of Calypso was repeating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't you just love it when an author doesn't update for a while and then SMACKS ya with a new chapter that's the literature equivalent of a shitshow?


	16. Calypso, Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come. Either Draven- or what Cal _thinks_ is Draven- will be defeated, or it will Cal and their friends who will pay the ultimate price.
> 
> TW: Violence, hallucinations, mentions of blood and injuries, heavy language, referenced or implied death.

No. No way. The myth of Calypso was just that— a myth. Yet, a beast so akin to the one of legend stood before them, bent by chaos to kill them. The serpent swayed in front of them as if mocking them. Cal’s breath hitched, heart swelling with something akin to terror.

“Guys?” they whispered, their voice small and childish. “What’s happening?”

“...I don’t know,” Roman replied, clutching his drowsy head as he shook off the effects of the _ragar_. Virgil clung to his arm, terrified that the serpent would attack and take Roman away from him.

“ _So docile, Descendant? One would have thought you would be more proactive with the fate of the universe in your hands…_ ” the serpent hissed. “ _Perhaps there is something that can be done about that_.” In a heartbeat, the ground began to shake violently. Someone, one of the guards, let out a shriek as a blackened hand shot out from the ground beneath them. Cal clumped with their family, terrified, as bodies dug themselves up from the ground, their forms smokey and wavering as though they were made of mist and shadows.

“ _Rise, my little warriors,_ ” the monstrous serpent cried gleefully. “ _Destroy the Descendant of the Heavens!_ ” The serpent made some noise that could only be described as a cackle as the shadows arrived from the depths of Chaos.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy _shit, holy shit_ ,” Virgil muttered. “If it weren’t for the adrenaline in my systems right now, I would have definitely blacked out at least once by now!”

“ _Silence!_ ” the serpent commanded. Virgil’s eyes flew wide with fear as he obeyed, his mouth snapping shut. “ _Mortals such as yourself shouldn’t even think of speaking to me. There is only one here who I’ll even_ dream _of considering my equal._ ” Its eyes fell onto Cal, who squeaked quietly.

“Tell— tell me why you’re doing this, Draven!” they shouted, their voice echoing across the rolling hills. The serpent seemed to scoff.

“ _Draven? Who’s he? Never heard of him._ ”

“You lying bastard!” Roman bellowed, moving only a foot before Virgil caught his arm, holding him back. “I’ll kill you my—”

“ _I SAID SILENCE._ ” The prince froze, at last submitting. “ _I am the beast. I am the monster. I am the shadow-creature, the destroyer, all that wrong with this world and then some. Or so you mortals choose to write me. I am more than a story, my darling. I am the rightful holder of the Gazer Stone. I am the one who shall rule this wretched universe and right all of your pitiful wrongdoings, for I am the only being in existence who truly understands my actions and their consequences. I am the past, the present, and the future. I am the good and the evil, the light and the dark._ ” It seemed to smile, proudly showing off its gleaming fangs. “ _If I am but a beast, do tell me, Descendant of the Heavens, why I cannot be defeated?_ ”

Cal whimpered under their shaking breath. “You— you haven’t been defeated yet. But there’s always a first time for everything.”

“ _Like how there’s a first time for you to die as you ought to?_ ” Cal fell silent, an irritated flush on their cheeks. The serpent’s eyes narrowed to slits, pleased to be able to continue with its tirade.

“ _Did you know? It was so incredibly easy to convince him. A little spite and a little self-hate will do the trick. Let him get to know you, trust you— like you, even. Add in the death of his only child—_ ” Roman gasped, hands flying to cover his mouth at the reveal of his cousin’s fate, “ _—and he’ll be willing to do anything for you!_ ”

“Shut up!” Roman cried, clapping his hands over his ears, unable to hear more.

“ _Is the prince scared? Is he terrified of what his own blood is capable of?_ ” The serpent’s grin grew menacing. “ _Is he petrified of what_ he _is capable of?_ ” A wave of black hit their vision, sending Cal their knees with a scream as they fought of an overwhelming sense of pure, unadulterated terror.

“Oh, Calypso, I’m going to die,” they whispered as a shadow flew overhead, heralding an arrival— though whether the newcomer was a friend or foe was yet to be determined.

“Heya, Cal!” a familiar voice shouted. “Thought ya might need a hand or eight!” They broke into a smile, so relieved they felt small tears spill from their eyes, as a shining gold dragon flew overhead, circling around to reveal the mechanic, Wonderling Finch, in all her glory. She took off her black goggles, wiping the sweat off her brow. Beside her were three men, each of them displaying an animalistic trait. _The Vasryian guards. Thank Calypso they were safe._ “A’ight, boys, let’s see how this li’l shit of scales likes the taste of Legion fire!” she cried as she threw a fist in the air. As though alive and responding to her commands, the dragon opened its gargantuan mouth, releasing a column of flames and a mechanic roar that shook the ground.

Cal watched in awe as Wonderling slid off the dragon with the guards in tow. She strode towards Cal and their friends with murder in her eyes, none of the beast’s warriors daring to come near her. “I’m mighty glad to find y’all in good health,” she greeted, “though I would’ve preferred not summoning giant snakes on my day off.”

“It’s not like I wanted to battle a chaos-bent serpent on my day off either!” Roman countered.

“We’re outlaws, Roman, we don’t have days off,” Patton sighed.

“Would you all focus on the matter at hand, _please?_ ” Logan chimed in, gesturing to the rapidly approaching shadow-soldiers.

“You three, join the other guards. They’ll trust you more than they’ll trust us, and right now, we need all the ready fighters we can get,” Cal cut in, addressing the guards, who nodded and split up, headed for three largest factions of Vasryian guards.

Wonderling whistled, calling over her dragon. She climbed back on top, opening up a small hatch on the back. The mechanic reached inside, grabbing something, and triumphantly pulled out a few swords and a gun. “Let’s get serious, hmm?” She slid off the metal dragon with a smirk, tossing the gun to Virgil. “Ya got these where ya were birthed?”

Virgil scoffed as he caught the gun. “Unfortunately, yes.” He tested out the weapon, raising it towards the sky and firing it with a loud pop. Wonderling handed a sword to Cal, who tested out its weight as the mechanic doled out her final weapon to Logan, a double-edged sword that fit in the robot’s hands as though it was made just for him.

“Split up,” Wonderling ordered. “Trust me ya want as much room to move as possible when ya vengeance be a-swingin’.” They nodded, moving quickly. Virgil and Roman paired together as the serpent’s army reached them, running out of reach of their smokey arms. Logan and Patton immediately engaged the ashen soldiers as Wonderling pulled Cal out of their way.

Cal’s fingers closed around their blade as a darkness grew in their eyes. The growing smell of blood and the movements of swinging knives was something all too familiar to them. It dug up memories from long ago, times when they spoke the word “family” with disdain and disgust, times when their heart turned to stone from being pelted too much with rocks. It dug up memories of a time when all they knew was revenge and a cold within.

When they moved, it seemed they were a child again, a teen again, a young adult again, running, screaming, fighting, swinging their blades like death’s cold scythes until they were left in a black void, alone, but safe.

They screamed as they cut down warrior after warrior, thick channels of tears flooding their face as they fought to control their breathing. “Ya a’ight, Cal?” Wonderling called. They shut their eyes, forcing themself to breath slow and deep, and turned towards her, smiling, and nodded.

Cal looked around for their friends, anxious to see they were still alright, if not faring better than they were. They saw Roman and Virgil, nearly dancing with each other as they lacerated shadow after shadow. They saw Logan and Patton, Logan’s attention turned away from the Drisine as he tackled one of the larger shadow-monsters, wielding his double-ended sword as expertly as a master swordsman. His back was turned, unable to see Patton watching him in awe as the robot spun and twisted and slung and slashed. Unable to see the twilight-warrior behind him, claws outstretched.

“Patton! No!” they screamed as the shapeshifter turned too late, barely able to register the shadow form in front of him before it slashed across him. Patton’s eyes flew wide open, a soft whimper escaping his lips. He had no time to react before he was pushed to the ground, safe from further harm, as the creature let out a guttural screech, before it, too, collapsed upon earth. Cal let out a cry relief, seeing Logan standing above Patton like a colossus, staring down coldly at the creature.

“Don’t touch my friend,” he growled in a clipped tone, a look pure homicide on his face. He raises the double-ended blade in his hand that Wonderling had given to him. A flash of movement, and the shadow-warrior was gone.

“Cal!” Wonderling cried, tugging on their arm. “I trust Logan to tend to Patton. We’ve got our own miseries to fret over.” Sparing a reaffirming glance at the robot and the shapeshifter, Cal turned back to Wonderling, sighing.

“Alright.”

They moved as one unit, back-to-back, each one just a moving part of something bigger. They protected one another, in full understanding of how crucial the other was to the end of this fight. When Wonderling had her back turned to an approaching shadow-warrior, it was Cal who swiped as threateningly as possible at the shadowling, growling. When Cal was focused on guarding Wonderling’s back, it was Wonderling who lunged at another shadow risen from chaos, dissipating them as soon as her blade touched their ashen skin.

“You move well, for a mechanic. What’s the story?” Cal asked as they danced across the battlefield. Wonderling snorted, shaking her head.

“I’m a merchant, too, ya know. A sage hen gotta know how to keep her dignity about her when she’s a stranger, and where I come from, dignity is derived from the number of quarrels ya win. Ya learn quick in alleys how to handle a sword— watch it!” Wonderling sprung at the black-cloud combatant, quickly taking care of it, letting her sword fall to the ground as she panted heavily. “Ya need to keep ya eyes peeled, Cal, or ya might get hurt.”

“Eh, don’t worry. Where I come from, you either hurt or get hurt. I think it’s pretty obvious which path I chose.” Cal smirked twisted the blade the mechanic had given them, playing with it. “Trust me, I know how to handle myself. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that,” they said, shaking their head, unaware of the soft patter of footsteps behind them. They saw her face melt into horror and rage as her eyes trained on something over their shoulder.

“Cal! Watch out!” Wonderling cried as the mechanic shoved Cal out of the way. They whirled around in time to see Wonderling whip out a blade tucked away in her boots, blocking a slash from a figure Cal hadn’t seen until then. Wonderling growled, kicking the person out from under their feet. They fell with a grunt, Wonderling easily disarming them. “Ya don’ hurt my friends, got it?” she snarled. The person rolled over, pushing themself off the ground to stand as Cal’s jaw dropped in shock.

“Cato.” Their voice was flat, absent of any sort of mercy. “You won’t stop at anything to see my demise, will you?”

Cato laughed, a maniacal sound wrapped in echoes of slipping sanity. “ _The beast wants to see you destroyed. So do I. Our interests aligned,_ ” he muttered, eyes flickering around like a bird unable to keep still. He raised his sword again, poised to strike, but the fate of Cal’s life was not in his hands. Wonderling brought down her blade once more, blocking the blow of the crazed man. Cato went on a rampage, swinging and swinging, blindly striking Wonderling’s sword until he hit something.

The mechanic cried out suddenly, clutching her arm as she collapsed, leaving Cal wide open for the destructive rage of Cato. “No!” they screamed, unable to see the flash of silver that surrounded them as Cato dropped his weapon at once, falling to his knees. They, too, dropped to their knees, cradling Wonderling as she hissed in pain, shielding her from the blows that never landed. Someone was screaming behind Cal, audibly choking, but Cal could hear nothing but the blood pounding in their ears, nothing but the pure rage in their veins, nothing but the pained groans of Wonderling in their arms.

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna to be okay, Cal, ya hear me? I’ve been through worse, nothin’ can off me that easy,” she laughed, smiling through the agony she must have been going through. “Ya don’ need to fret,” she assured them. “I’m not gonna see the Old Scratch just yet.”

“I don’t care. You’re not fighting another second,” Cal demanded. Wonderling’s sleeve had been torn where blade had met thread, and the wound was already soaking the edges of the garment’s hole in rusty blood. “Not until you’re healed.” Wonderling cocked an eyebrow, smirking. “You’ve done enough already. Please, allow me to finish what I’ve started.”

A pained shriek, sonorous as the rapturous call of a vulture, interrupted them. Cal turned and nearly screamed, their nausea skyrocketing. Cato was convulsing on the ground, clawing at his throat as though some invisible force was grasping it too tight to breathe. Silver surrounded him, dark as cold cobblestone, as he jerked and twisted each and every way. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot, his lips turning blue.

“What in the hell is happenin’ to him?” Wonderling asked, the trepidation in her voice evident.

“I… I have no idea.”

“ _You wretched bitch! No matter what vessel you choose, you cannot escape His fury!_ ” Cato screamed between gasps for air. Cal subconsciously stepped back, willing themself not to run and abandon Wonderling. Their eyes were glued on the dying man as he thrashed about, every limb subject to whatever terrifying curse had been inflicted upon him. Blood welled up behind his eyes, spilling over the lids down his paling cheeks. Cal tore their gaze away, unable to watch any longer as they swallowed the bile in their throat threatening to reveal their nausea to the outside world.

They refused to look, not even when someone— no, it had to have been the wind— behind them whispered, “Please, Cal. Kill the beast. _Save us._ ” The coughing and choking and noise stopped with the single exhale of a final breath. Cal looked upwards, blinking away what was _not_ tears— they weren’t going to cry for a monster.

Instead, they told themself the tears were for Wonderling, who was watching them carefully. “You need to get off the battlefield right away.”

“I’ll signal Axel,” the mechanic replied, whistling immediately. The mechanical dragon, some ways away, turned its head towards its creator and roared, lifting up into the air, leaving several shadow-warriors milling around, confused. Axel landed gently by Wonderling as Cal helped her to her feet, leading her to the dragon. Axel’s head lay on the ground, allowing the two to climb aboard. “Go on, Cal. I can handle myself from here. Go save the universe, how ‘bout it?” Cal nodded as they leapt off the dragon, smiling softly.

“I’ll try, Wonderling,” they promised as Axel lifted off, heading for the abandoned palace. “I’ll try.”

With Wonderling safely out of harm’s way, their attention fell back on the serpent, which seemed to have not moved an inch since the start of the battle. “Hey, fucker! Did you fall asleep or something?” The serpent’s eyes trained on them, unblinking.

“ _Last of the Stargazers,_ ” it addressed. “ _One would expect your feet to move as quickly as your mouth._ ”

Cal smirked, hoping to hide the tremors running through their body from the serpent. “What can I say? I have a talent for not living up to people’s expectations of me.” The serpent growled, unamused. “You called me ‘Last of the Stargazers,’” they called, stalling for enough time to think of a plan. “Wanna explain what that’s all about?”

“ _You, darling, are known for destroying an entire galaxy, taking responsibility for the death of Calypso’s Legacy. Have you realized yet who you took the blame from?_ ” it taunted.

“Well, obviously you. Still haven’t answered my question, though. Why do you keep calling me all these names?”

“ _Darling, haven’t you figured it out yet?_ ” it mocked. “ _Your parents were Stargazers and their parents before them. You are a Stargazer, and the last of your kind. You should have perished with the rest of them!_ ” Cal felt their fist clench on something cold and opened their palm, seeing the Gazer Stone. They glanced back at the serpent, its eyes still piercing their soul. “ _Your cursed parents trapped your true form inside of you. But, now that it been freed… I can rightfully take what’s mine._ ” The apprehension in their stomach only doubled.

They could feel the Gazer Stone grow heavier in their hand as though it carried the weight of worlds, heating up until Cal was confident it was burning through their palm. Without thinking, Cal held up the Gazer Stone, wings outspread, screaming the final verse of the myth that guided all: “ _Then come and get it!_ ”

The serpent’s eyes fixated on the stone, every one of its shadow-warriors stilling. It grinned, its mouth full of rows upon rows of shiny, sharp knives for teeth. “ _Gladly._ ”

A flash of white enveloped the rolling hills. Cal could see nothing, though they could feel chilling winds pick up around them, whipping and whirling and racing and rushing, a hurricane in which Cal could not open their heterochromatic eyes. But they had to look, had to see what was going on.

“Oh, holy Calypso Above,” they murmured in horror as the black winds rushed past them, nearly blinding them. The serpent was but a sphere of darkness, so black it seemed to not even be a color, but the true absence of all known hues. They felt cold to merely peer at it, shivering uncontrollably.

A wretched scream torn from the depths of chaos reverberated across the battlefield as at last the hurricane settled, the winds clearing to reveal a monster. It was tall as the heavens, a mass of black smoke with two yellow pinpricks for eyes that stared them down with what had to be a leer. There was no doubt left in Cal’s heart. The myth of Calypso was truly repeating.

Cal covered their ears, shielding them from the piercing sound emanating from the mouth of the beast. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” they muttered. Cal could hear their friends’ curses over the cacophony of their beating heart. _How the_ fuck _were they supposed to… what, defeat this?_

“Cal!” someone shouted. They looked up and saw Roman, running towards them. “What in the name of the Generals is that thing?”

“I have no clue. Is everybody alright? Patton got hurt, is he okay?” they asked.

“I do hope so. We haven’t been able to get far enough away from the shadow-things to treat his wounds. It appears that will have to wait even longer though, hmm?” Roman replied, sparing a peek at the monstrous beast that was slowly inching towards them like an all-consuming hunger. Roman picked up Cal’s fallen sword from the ground and handed it to them. “I assume you’ll need this more than I.”

“Thanks. I’ll be fine, Roman. Go fight with your boyfriend. That’s romantic, right?” Cal grabbed the sword offered to them as Roman barked a laugh.

“Alright, then. You stay safe, you hear me?” he told them, his voice grave and serious. Cal nodded, smiling sadly.

“I’ll try my best, Princey. But I can only try. I said I would give my life to defeat Draven that day in _Sleeping Stars._ My word still stands.” Roman sighed solemnly, nodded, and left for Virgil’s side, gripping his own sword ever so tighter.

Not a moment after Roman left did Cal have to face off with one of the beast’s shadow warriors, lunging towards them with hellbent rage in its soulless eyes. They shrieked, caught off guard, and slashed the sword, barely grazing the soldier. Cal cursed as their heart crawled into their throat, pounding mercilessly.

“Calypso Above, save me!” they cried out, throwing their sword in the air. A bright light appeared before them, stealing them of their vision, effacing the shadow in front of them. A woman dressed in white stood in front of them, a sylphlike arm extended towards them. “Take my hand,” she whispered. “Take my hand, Cal.”

“Mama?” Happy little drops of salt water pricked at the back of their eyes as they reached to grab her smooth palm. The woman smiled sadly, shaking her head as Cal’s fingers interlaced with hers. She vanished as quickly as she had appeared.

A feeling of determination overtook them, their wings beating in time with their racing heart. “ _The beast does not rule me,_ ” they whispered to themself, eyes glowing silver as the midnight moon. “ _He is as mortal as I._ ” They took a step forward. As though hearing their thoughts, the beast’s head snapped towards them, eyes glittering with evil. “I can and will beat him.” They smiled.

“Hey, guys! I think I have a plan!” At their words, the heads of friends turned towards them, eager to end the madness that had enveloped them. Cal beckoned them over, a quick respite from their skirmishes with the shadow-warriors that had sprung up from the ground like the undead. Quickly, they explained what they had in mind. “Got it?” they asked, scanning their surroundings for the beast’s brutal soldiers. Their friends nodded. “Let’s end this, alright?”

Virgil cocked the gun Wonderling had tossed him, aiming it easily at the beast. “I hope you like the taste of bullets, shitbag,” he grunted as he fired the weapon. “You guys go ahead, I know how to handle myself with a gun,” he told the others. Roman gave Virgil a quick forehead kiss. “I promise I’ll be alright.”

The earthling continued firing his gun as the others launched into the next part of Cal’s plan, running for the beast. Virgil aimed his weapon towards the ashen warriors of the beast whenever they came too close for comfort to his friends. As soon as they had covered enough ground, Patton jumped into the air, shapeshifting into a dragon, much like the one Wonderling and the guards had arrived on. Cal grabbed onto the fearsome creature’s horns as it lifted further into the air.

The beast’s attention was now on Cal and Patton. It opened its mouth, smokey vines shooting out from its throat, just like in the myth Cal knew by heart. The vines raced forth for the warrior and their companions. Virgil blasted them, muttering indecencies as the vines snapped back, deterred by the earthling’s gunfire. “Fuck you, too!” he shouted at them for good measure.

While the beast was distracted by Virgil’s attacks, Roman had tossed Cal the Halo Sword. Cal had grabbed it midair, letting out a cry as they felt their grip loosen. Luckily, they hadn’t fallen, but now the beast’s attention was back on them. It growled, peeved at the momentary diversion.

“Logan, I think now would be a good time!” they shouted, hoping to the heavens the robot could hear them. He _had_ heard, apparently, as he faced the beast, and closed his eyes. Instantaneously, he let his eyes flash open, the brightness in the little bulbs that made up the steel grey orbs turned to their maximum level. They were searchlights now, beams of luminosity that illuminated the path they all had chosen to take together, blinding the beast and its shadow-soldiers. The beast shrieked, eschewing its head from the dazzling light.

Patton took his chance and took flight, soaring across the battlefield, letting out a splitting roar. Cal let out a long sigh as the wind whipped past them. They shut their eyes so they wouldn’t have to see if they failed, and let go of Patton’s horns. Cal felt themself falling, falling, racing toward the ground as they unconsciously lifted the Halo Sword in their hand. As they heard the gusts rush past them, seeming to whisper to them, they opened their eyes and saw a mass of black. _The beast_.

To their surprise, the beast wasn’t solid. From far away, it appeared to be a black figure, but up close, they could see that the beast was nothing but a hurricane made of ash and smoke with two glowing yellow eyes. It then hit them that they were about to fall through this hurricane of smog. And then probably die.

They raised their arms, accepting their impending doom. They ripped through the beast with a puff of charcoal smoke and found themselves in the eye of the storm, an eerie calm surrounded by vicious winds.

It was too much like the dungeons. Everywhere they looked they saw black swashes, and while little rays of sunlight were able to penetrate the inky storm, they were few and far between. The air in their lungs was caught in their throat, stalling as their eyes fell upon a woman the color of amber, her eyes a brilliant blue the color of a shining ocean. It was the woman from their visions in the dungeons.

“My darling, what are you doing?” the woman asked. “You know this won’t solve anything. You’re just going to get your friends killed! Won’t you listen to your mother?” Cal growled, their grip tightening on their weapon.

“ _You_ are just a vision. You’re not my mother, or anyone of importance to me. The only ones who matter to me are out there right now, fighting for me so that we might all be able to see another sunrise. And this is the only way to save them. Whatever you have to tell is only going to try to stop me, so you might as well shut up!” Snarling, they swung the sword at the vision, which dissipated as quickly as it had confronted them.

They flew onwards, wings beating to the rhythm of their erratic pulse. They saw black mist in front of them beginning to form another vision and steeled themself.

It was their family again. Even though they knew for certain this time these were just illusions and were nothing to be wary of, the sight of their beloved friends still jarred them. This time, however, they were not cold and uncaring. Rather, they were dead. Blood trickled out from their eyes and mouths, their heads limp on their shoulders. Cal covered their mouth, swallowing the rising bile in their throat as they tore their eyes away from the frightening sight. They could hear whispers of the damned clawing at their ears, making empty promises of glory and wonder and love if they would just _give up_.

“ _No!_ ” they yelled, surging forward past the illusionary corpses. They struggled onward, their pace much slower as they continued their search for the beast’s weakness. They felt their wings begin to grow heavy, the tips starting to lose their color. But still they marched onwards, towards whatever nightmare awaited them.

They couldn’t give up just yet. Not yet.

Cal thought they were beginning to lose their mind; no matter how far and wide they seemed to fly, all they saw was a whirlwind of ebony smoke that seemed to be closing in on them. They were just around and around in circles. Their breath caught in their throat and adrenaline began to creep through their veins, harbinger of panic. Shit, _shit, this wasn’t the time…_

“Calrex…” someone called. Their head whipped up at the distant lilting voice, the voice’s name on the tip of their tongue. They saw a figure through the smoke, but they still couldn’t make out any distinguishing features. “Listen to my voice…” Dread settled in their stomach as the figure approached.

It was Cassandra.

Cal almost dropped the Halo Sword in their shock, it never occurring to them that of all the visions they would encounter, she would be one of them. Cassandra’s arms were open, reaching towards them, inviting them to drop the Halo Sword and forget everything and just lay with her for the rest of eternity.

“Calrex… listen to me. You can do this, right?” Cassandra asked, eyes unblinking. Cal nodded enthusiastically, tears forming on the lids of their eyes. “Just remember to swing, Calrex. Otherwise you’ll be just as useless as last time.”

They jumped back as though stung, their blood freezing in horror. “...What?” they whispered, their voice lost to the howls of wind around them. “What the hell are you talking about?” they snapped defensively.

Cassandra only smiled. “You couldn’t save me, Calrex. What makes you think you can save all your _new_ friends? Or are you just going to let them die and move on to someone new who’s dumb enough to fall for your tricks?” They stepped back again, no longer full of bittersweet memories of a time they loved, rather full of terror of what would next leak from this vision’s mouth. “That’s right, Calrex. _Run_. Run away from your problems and they’ll just magically disappear, right? Is that what you think? That you can just _run_ and everything’s going to be okay? Well. Running didn’t bring me back to life, now, did it?”

“Stop it.” Cassandra’s eyes finally focused _on_ them, not _through_ them, a sneer making its way onto her face. “You’re not… you’re not Cassie. Cassie loved everyone too much to say something so hurtful. She’s dead and gone, and… you’re right.” The vision froze in surprise, blinking hard. “Running away isn’t going to change anything,” they conceded sadly, shaking their head. “But I’m not running away anymore. I’m staying right here, with my family. We’re not leaving one another. You can shove any other idea up your fucking ass.”

Cassandra scoffed, her sweet smile becoming a sour scowl. “Pity. I thought perhaps I could knock some sense into you.”

Cal returned her scowl with one of their own. “Bold of you to assume I can _keep_ that sense. Cassie would’ve known.” The illusion scoffed again. “I’m sorry, Cassie,” they muttered as they swung the sword across the vision.

It didn’t disappear. Instead, the sword made contact with flesh and bone and suddenly blood painted the silver blade crimson. They jerked back, eyes widening as they watched Cassandra’s eyes bleed, her body falling limp to her feet.

A soft, pained moan left their lips as visions— no, memories— flashed before their eyes. They sunk to their knees as the body of their first friend, first love, first _everything_ , disappeared before their eyes, leaving nothing but black mist and a hole in their chest. Their lungs were heaving as they fought off the nausea rising through their body, clutching their chest as if they could rip out the pain.

“You see? You left me to die, Calrex. You left me,” they heard, mindless voices swirling through their head. They shook their head frantically, denying what was right in front of them. “ _You are nothing. You are nothing. You are_ nothing.” They swallowed the tears that threatened to drown them.

All at once, they heard a new voice- several. Cal could recognize the intonations, the lilts, the words of each one, and knew who they were. Logan was by their side, telling them they were worth the world and then some. Virgil was behind them, telling them he would always have their back. Roman held Cal’s arm, telling them to believe in tomorrow and themself. And Patton was in front of them, smiling at them, his arms wide open— he didn’t have to tell them anything to tell them he loved them.

Cal allowed themself a smile as they fell into Patton’s embrace, hugging him tight. They pulled back to see he had become the woman in white who had guided them throughout the battle. “My dear, you are strong enough to overcome these visions. You are _strong_ ,” the woman told them. Cal’s eyes flashed silver as their wings regained their color.

“It’s alright, Mama. I know.”

Cal let out a victorious scream fueled by all the emotions running freely through their body that moment. Their grip tightened on the Halo Sword as the black storm around them worsened. Desperately, they looked around, searching for the weakness within the beast.

Their eyes fell on a black lump above them. They shot upwards, propelled by the force of their wings, grabbing onto it to stop suddenly. As though bitten, their hands ripped backwards the moment they had landed on the strange thing, a pain jolting through their chest as Cal let out a cry of pain. They knew. This was the beast’s heart.

Steeling themself, Cal raised the Halo Sword. They could do it. Just one swing, and it would all be over. Just one swing, and they could save their family. Just one swing, and they would end a life. Cal’s arm dropped instantly as their breath began to shorten, coming in little gasps. They couldn’t do it. For all their talk of grandeur and bravery, they couldn’t do it. For all the lives Draven had destroyed, had taken, they couldn’t do it. For Cassandra, the Dragon Witches, Roman’s parents, and countless others, they couldn’t do it.

They could hear something, very faintly. They had to focus, had to hear it. They let their eyes fall shut and immediately they were flooded with the sound of a heartbeat— no, _several_ heartbeats. _The heartbeats of their family._ They could hear the rhythmic ticking of Logan’s artificial heart, the pounding bass of Patton’s love-filled heart, the panicked beat of Virgil’s overworked heart, and the faint _b-bump, b-bump_ of Roman’s dying heart. Wait, _what?_

Cal focused further of Roman’s pulse. The beast had him in its clasp, choking the life out of him. They could hear Virgil’s screams, his sobs to _let him go._ They swallowed thickly and held up the Halo Sword. Just one swing. _Just. one. swing._

Without thinking, Cal raised the sword and swung it, slashing straight through the bitter, black hole of the beast. They heard another scream, this one emanating from the beast’s throat. The noise overwhelmed them and they threw their hands over their ears to cover them. The storm that was whirling around them grew more violent, the smoke occluding their airways. Their wings worked on autopilot, forcing them out of the body of the beast, out of the storm, out of the danger. They coughed as they burst out of the storm, feeling themself begin to fall from the sky like the unforgiven. Cal plummeted towards the ground, their wings beating weakly to save them as the sky distanced itself from the failed fighter.

Their eyelids fell shut as their wings tentatively spread out to full wingspan, catching the wind beneath beautiful feathers the colors of a rainbow. An Icarus no longer, they felt themself begin to glide. Cal landed gracefully, their wings folding in on themself the minute they were on solid ground. They whirled around, seeing Roman fall to his knees, clutching his throat as he wheezed for the air he had been denied. Virgil was by his side already, biting back the relief that Roman would be okay.

Cal turned back to the beast. It writhed, having changed back to its serpent form. It let out pitiful screeches and wails that pierced their sensitive ears, screaming incoherent words and curses. The long-awaited moment arrived as the beast at last fell to the ground with a resounding thump, causing the ground to quake.

The gust that blew across the Vasryian lands forced all but Cal to their knees. They felt the air rush out of their lungs as if the wind had ripped it straight from their throat, leaving them breathless and gasping as the whirlwind at last died down.

The beast was gone. In its place, Draven had returned. The king fell to the ground, lying limp in the grass. Cal could do naught but stare at him as they caught their breath, shoulders heaving as they struggled to breathe. Draven was still. Unmoving. Lifeless. As their breathing evened out, they crouched down, scrutinizing Draven with caution.

He was facedown on the ground, a small blood of crimson blood pooling under his chest, where Cal had stabbed the wretched beast. _Oh, Calypso Above, what have I done?_ They felt their heartbeat start to pound out of time as they turned Draven over. As soon as they did, they yanked their arm back as they yelped in surprise.

Draven’s eyes were open, staring right at them as though at any moment he would grab the discarded knife next to them. It reminded them too much of Cassandra. Instead of the heterochromatic eyes they were used to seeing, one black and one yellow, both were a soft brown. The crown made of thorns that encircled had his head in times past now beheld withered flowers. His eyebrows were upturned, his lips slightly parted as though he was about to cry at the betrayal of a trusted friend. Cal sighed. The beast had at last released him of its suffocating grip.

They closed his eyelids, allowing him to finally sleep in peace. Though they had no idea how long the beast had controlled Draven, or which of his actions were truly his, he deserved basic decency. The man was dead, after all.

“Cal? Are you okay?” they heard behind them. Roman stood next to them, staring at the cloud-covered sky, unable to gaze upon the form of the man who had, whether under control of another or not, murdered his parents before his very eyes.

“I think the more important question is: are _you_ okay?”

Roman swallowed thickly, letting out a shaky laugh. “To be honest, Cal, I haven’t the slightest idea.” The prince spared a glance for the body before him. “I can’t forgive him for what he did, even if he was being controlled by some ancient, all-powerful evil. My mother used to always say, ‘the only evil we have to fear is the evil within our hearts.’ Perhaps Draven _was_ but a shell of who he was. But he had those terrible thoughts in the first place— that’s what allowed the beast to take over. I’ll mourn him, sure, but what I’ll be mourning is Draven’s refusal to let himself just enjoy what he had, rather than be jealous of my father for something he couldn’t even control. Maybe if he had… we would’ve been a happy family. I would’ve grown up in the palace, preparing to take my father’s place as king, and playing with Patton on the days I didn’t have training. Maybe I would’ve loved Draven as the uncle I never got to have. I wouldn’t have this pain. I would have a family. But…” He looked at Cal, and then beyond them, where Logan was attending to the cuts on Patton’s arms and Virgil was watching the pirate and the prince worriedly.

“I would have never met you, or Logan, or Virgil. I would be betrothed to... someone, be bored out of my mind at every single dinner party, instead of getting to pilot around space with my best friends and my _emaja_ , having a new adventure every day.” Roman tore his sight away from the fallen king. “I don’t know… I don’t think I’ll ever be _truly_ okay. But I can live with it. And that’s good enough for me.”

“What in the name of the Generals are we going to do now?” Cal wondered aloud. Roman shrugged, having as much of an idea as them. “We should go see if the others are okay.”

Cal took Roman's hand to help push themself off the ground as they stood. As they made their way over to where their friends congregated, Cal saw the guards begin to help one another up, some gathering around those who had fallen and bidding them farewell for the final time. They shuddered. Had anything gone differently, it might be Roman lying dead on the ground. Or Virgil. Or Logan, or Patton.

“You’re okay?” Virgil asked worriedly as soon as they were within an earshot. “You’re both okay?” The two nodded, breaking off in different directions. Roman, of course, headed for the human, pulling Virgil into an unbreakable hug as the two collapsed into one another, sharing whispered words and promises they were alright. Cal headed for Logan and Patton, who were inspecting each other, ensuring there were no further injuries on one another besides those on Patton’s arm.

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton greeted, wincing as he clutched his arm. “Logan, I thought you said the disinfectant wouldn’t sting that much!”

“Nonsense, you just have a low pain tolerance,” Logan shot back. Cal smothered a giggle.

“We almost just died, what are you two crabbing about?” they said, their voice full of amusement. “Are you going to be alright, Patton?”

“Logan thinks so, as long as I keep them clean.” The Drisine frowned. “...what about… Draven?” Cal stiffened, shaking their head wordlessly. “Oh.”

“Perhaps we should join Virgil and Roman,” Logan interjected, sensing the tension in Cal’s shoulders. Cal grunted in concurrence. The three joined the Vasryian and the earthling, whose hands were intertwined as they shared a slow kiss, full of everything they might have missed had either one of them fallen.

As the lovers pulled away, Cal felt something tugging at their heart. Someone was behind them. They whirled around, ready to confront the figure behind them, and froze dead in their tracks.

The woman that had appeared in front of Cal in the midst of the battle was standing before them again. The others gasped, seeing her, too, as they spun around. Cal stared the woman down. “Who are you?” they challenged, stepping in front of their friends. The woman in white broke into a playful grin.

“I am the conqueror. The vanquisher. The savior. Your predecessor. I go by many names, but the one I am known to by all is ‘Calypso.’” Cal blinked, processing the words. In slow motion, their eyes grew wide and their lips parted in shock as they understood.

“Holy sh— You’re— you’re— you’re… who?” they stuttered.

“I am the one called Calypso. My time in this form is limited, so I must be quick with my intentions. Come here, so I may speak with you in private.” Cal did as they were told, too wonderstruck to disobey. “Do you know why I’m here, my dear?” the divine woman known as the savior asked. Cal shook their head, dumbfounded. “You have at last taken up my onus as defender of the worlds.”

Cal ran their hands through their hair, trying to wrap their head around such a concept. “Wait, you’re saying that I’m your successor or something?” Calypso nodded gently. “If— if I’m supposed to take on your role, where are your Generals, then? Aren’t they supposed to protect you— or me— or whoever?”

Calypso giggled softly. “They’ve been with you a long time, my dear.”

“Who’re you—” The realization hit them like a spacecraft crash. They looked over their shoulder, at their friends, watching them curiously. Their head whipped back towards Calypso. “Are you shitting me?” Calypso snorted.

“I wouldn’t necessarily phrase it as such, but, no, I’m not jesting.” Her tone grew more serious. “Now, I can’t be in this form forever, so I apologize, but I must continue. The beast may not be gone. He resurfaced after near eons of hiding, after I thought I’d killed him for once and for all. You may rest— you’ve certainly earned a respite— but you must be conscious that at any moment the beast could come back. I’ll be watching from the heavens, my dear, so know that I will help should the beast prove himself alive once more.”

Cal nodded mutely, overwhelmed by it all. “I just nearly lost my life trying to kill an ancient beast that might not actually be dead, got it.” Calypso allowed herself to smile.

“You and I have a very similar sense of humor. I can see why the storytellers chose you as my successor. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must attend to the others,” she said as she pulled away from the proximity of Cal to address the others.

“You all have given this universe a gift by protecting it, even if you feel you are not the best person to do so. Thusly, as a… thank you, of sorts, I shall gift each one of you with the wish you hold most dear to your heart.” Virgil squinted, raising a hand.

“So, if we wanted, say, a hundred GameBoys, you’d grant that?” he asked skeptically.

“...Game… boys? ….No matter, I know that _most certainly_ isn’t your wish, is it, my dear Virgil?” Calypso responded, taking a step towards him. Virgil paled. “You needn’t worry. Your friends shall not judge you for the wish you hold.” She smiled gently, coaxing him to divulge his wish so that she might grant it.

“...I want to know what happened to Vae,” he blurted, bowing his head. “I’ve felt… so guilty leaving without knowing what happened to her. If anyone could know… it would be you, wouldn’t it?”

Calypso let her eyelids fall shut for a second before reopening them. “She’s alive, my dear Virgil. But she left your world for another one that needed her assistance.” The holy woman gave the human a pointed look. “She does not blame you for leaving.” It seemed those were the words Virgil needed to hear most; his shoulders sunk as though relieved of some burden, his face growing serene.

The goddess-woman turned to the person beside Virgil. “Patton, correct?” The shapeshifter nodded shyly as Calypso breathed a soft laugh. “It’s not hard to hear what your heart yearns for. The heart of the Drisine is one of the loudest.” Patton blushed, ducking his head. “Now, now, my dear, it is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“...but... it _is_ …” the Drisine whispered. “Maybe it’s because I never lived among my own kind, but I hate how my heart works.” A stunned silence fell over the others, who gaped at Patton’s revelation. “I— I tend to misread situations, and I feel like I’m too emotional. I don’t know how to control my feelings, much less how to understand them. It’s all one big mess up in here—” Patton smacked the side of his head, “—and I’m so confused I’d rather have no feelings at all.”

This statement seemed to anger the divine woman. “My dear, I know you are frustrated, but you should never regret your emotions. They are what allow you to connect with people so easily. They are what allow you to love indifferently, no matter the history or skin color of a being. That, my dear, is something very special and rare. It is not to be underestimated or cast aside. You should be proud of it, my dear.” She took a breath, calming herself. “I won’t take away your emotions. What I _can_ do, however, is… oh, how I explain this? ...I can make your emotions bleed into one another, so you can associate them with much simpler feelings, allowing you to express yourself with ease.” Calypso sighed. “Would that be okay, my dear Patton?”

The shapeshifter thought over his choices, brows furrowed as he pondered over the outcomes of either. “I… I think so…” Calypso smiled, extending a hand towards Patton.

“It won’t be immediate, but over time, you should notice a difference between your emotional state as of now and as of later,” Calypso said as she grasped Patton’s head. She dipped her head, her eyes shutting, and began muttering in a language foreign to all. Her body glowed silver for a moment before returning to its normal state. The holy woman opened her eyes. “It is done.”

Patton's smile wavered. With no warning, he threw himself at Calypso, his arms squeezing her in a hug. “Thank you so much.” Calypso gladly accepted the gesture, wrapping her lithe arms around the shapeshifter. “Thank you.”

As they parted, Logan stepped forward, biting his lip. “I assume you already have a general concept of what my wish might be,” he stated. “Before anything, I am resolute in my wish. I have been tantalizing myself with such a possibility for a while, and after thinking it over, I am sure I want to do this.”

Cal raised an eyebrow, unadmittedly worried. “I have a general thought of you will be wishing for, yes,” began Calypso, “but I believe your companions ought to be aware of your decision.” Logan huffed, nodding.

“Very well. My wish is to be given a body like the rest of you, one made of flesh and blood rather than metal and wiring. I constantly back up my memory onto the Sanders Yersinia, so we wouldn't lose any data. I would be far more vulnerable— it's far easier to replace a robot’s hand than it is to replace that of a person— but I'm willing to take the risk. For too long I've suffered these damned errors in my programs. After recent events, however… I've begun to desire changing my body to match these errors rather than changing these errors to match my body, and—”

“Logan! Logan, it's alright,” Patton interjected. “This choice is entirely up to you, there's no need to convince us. If it's what you want to do, then go ahead and do it.”

Roman continued the sentiments. “Agreed. It's not up to us to decide for you. To reiterate Patton, the choice is yours. We'll love and support you no matter what.”

“I mean, I won't be able to make as many DBH jokes, but that's fine with me. You're still going to be Logan, that's all I care about,” Virgil added. All gazes turned to Cal, who had yet to speak up.

“You've become a brother to me, Logan. How could I not love you, no matter what? With or without coding in your brain and wires in your veins, you're the smartest of our group. And if _you_ think it's a good idea, then it obviously is.” Cal smiled, genuine and kind, reassuring Logan.

“Well, if your friends have no opposition to your wish, I think it's high time to grant it, don't you?” Logan cracked a smirk, letting out a chuckle. “Take my hand. I must be connected with you.” Heeding the divine woman's words, he stepped forward, grasping her hand. Once more, Calypso mumbled in a foreign language, her eyes glowing silver as a mist white as snow spilled out of her mouth. The mist swirled around Logan, enveloping him. The others held their breath as they waited in anxious silence.

By now, many of the bystanders had gathered in clumps, vying for the best spot to witness the miracle-worker in white. They observed in awe, all emotion and thought scattered to the wind as the woman they knew in their hearts as Calypso fell suddenly silent, the mist disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

It was Logan, without a doubt, who stood there. But as Cal studied him, they noticed little differences. Logan now had a slight hunch in his posture rather than the perfectly straight line he normally kept his spine in. The nearly invisible lines along his face that outlined the metal plates that created his head were gone. They could see his shoulders rise and fall as he breathed for the first time with real lungs, see him running a hand along his arm as his felt for the first time with real skin, real nerves. It was his eyes, though, that convinced them Logan’s wish had been granted. They were the same steel grey color, reminiscent of storm clouds on a horizon, and they still beheld the same warmth as always, but Cal could see it— the pure joy inside of his eyes. The look of happiness on Logan’s face was certainly one they liked seeing.

Tears began overflowing from his eyes as he fell to his knees, overwhelmed. At once, his friends surrounded him in a hug. “Don’t worry, Logan. This stuff is normal,” Patton explained. “Just let it out.” Calypso let out a soft cough.

“Do pardon me, but I can feel my grasp on this form beginning to wane, so I must ask that we continue,” she said apologetically. Regretfully, the five friends released their grasps on one another, falling back into line. The divine woman’s eyes flickered towards Roman, who refused to meet her gaze. “Look at me, my dear.” Roman’s shoulders trembled slightly as he shook his head.

“You remind me too much of my mother,” he whispered, swallowing hard. Calypso’s eyes filled with pity. “Forgive me, sweet Calypso, but this day has already tested me enough.”

“Very well. All I ask is for you to tell me your wish,” she replied. Roman carded a hand through his hair, careful to avoid his crown of flowers as he stepped forward.

Roman closed his eyes, mumbling a small prayer. Virgil stepped up, clasping his lover’s hand in his own, offering the prince a bright smile. Roman returned with a bittersweet grin before turning back towards Calypso. “My wish... is to give my parents the proper burial they deserve. I don’t know what happened to their bodies after…” Roman swallowed hard. “After… their death. But if I know Draven, he likely disposed of them in some unmarked grave, denying them the dignity of having a proper final resting place!” he finished passionately. Calypso nodded as her tongue poked out between her lips, deep in thought.

“Perhaps… yes, I do believe that will work…” she murmured. Abruptly, she clapped her hands together, small sparks of electricity igniting between her palms. “When you have a moment to spare, I suggest you seek out the West Corner of the Gardens. What you desire will be waiting for you there.” Roman bit his trembling lip and schooled his face, taking a deep breath. He gave a curt nod to the goddess-woman, a wavering smile coming to his face.

“I will,” he promised.

At last, Calypso faced the pirate. “Have you had long enough to think about your wish, my dear?” she asked in a playful tone. Cal smirked, shrugging. “Come, now. Indulge me.”

“If you had asked me maybe a month ago, I would have said that all I wanted in this world was a family. Someone to love me.” Cal spared a glance for their friends beside them. “But, I think my wish has already been granted.” They giggled as Patton squealed, cooing with affection. “Instead, my wish is acceptance. I want the people of Vasryia to accept Roman as their rightful king, and love him, as subjects of a just and benevolent ruler would do.” Beside them, they heard soft, unbelieving gasps as Calypso’s silver eyes closed, incantations bubbling from the holy woman’s lips.

“Dammit, Cal, now I’m going to cry!” Roman whined, sniffling as he wiped small tears budding from his eyes.

“You’ve been through enough, Princey. I’ll do everything I can to lessen the burden you carry,” they said delicately as they strode towards the prince, taking him into their arms. Roman eagerly returned the hug, pulling Virgil into it, too. Patton grabbed Logan’s arm and dragged him back into the group hug as the robot-no-longer grumbled beneath his breath. “I’m so happy I met you guys,” they whispered tenderly, holding tight onto their friends. “I thought I’d never find a family again…” Cal sniffed, blinking away teardrops from their eyes.

They pivoted away from their friends to speak to Calypso, but found she had disappeared, gone as quickly as she materialized. Their teeth dug into their bottom lip. _Had Calypso granted their wish?_

Cal heard footsteps behind them and broke out of the hug to face whoever it was. It was one of the guards who had fought alongside Wonderling— Terrence. “Thank you. Not just for defeating the beast, or whatever it was, but for protecting Roman.” The guard bowed deeply as Cal flushed, unused to such a gesture of respect. They stuttered their thanks as Terrence stood.

“Calypso’s disappeared?” Roman asked behind them.

“Yeah. I think we’re on our own from here on out,” they replied, their eyes flickering towards the heavens, where Calypso was surely watching over them, and then towards the palace. “We’ve got our work cut out for us, but I think we can do it, right?”

“Of course,” Roman agreed, grinning. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

“Well, first off, we’re making you king, Your Highness,” Terrence quipped. “Most of the common people never accepted Draven as their king— we’ve always waited for you to come back.” Roman’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping in shock.

“I-is that so?” he breathed faintly.

Cal smirked. “Come on, how about we make for the palace? I’m sure Wonderling and the others are waiting for us.” The prince nodded mutely. Virgil popped up behind him, Patton and Logan just beyond the earthling, grabbing Roman’s hand, squeezing it.

“It’s about time you go home, Roman. For once, and for all,” the human said. They headed for the palace with the guards lingering about like tumbleweeds in the winds on the battlefield as the brilliant sun began to die, painting the skies crimson with the blood of a beast defeated. Tomorrow, or maybe the day after, they would have to confront the consequences of their actions. But for now, they were all one big family, fighting for survival one day at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I can't believe we're almost done! Just one more chapter and _Starbound_ will be officially finished!! I'm so thankful for all of you who ever took the time to read even a paragraph of this book. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and that you'll love the finale. :)


	17. The End of the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They rose up. They fought. They won. Now, it's time for the crew of the Sanders Yersinia to at last relax... with some parties, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaAAAAH _STARBOUND_ IS DONE!!! I can't believe it's finally finished after a year and a half! I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did! I'm not really sure what I what to do with it now. I'm thinking of perhaps publishing _Starbound_ as an actual novel (with more plot and name changes, of course). What do you guys think?   
>  Anywho, enjoy the final chapter! (as always, translations for the Vasryian are at the very end in the notes)
> 
> TW: Mentions of alcohol, intoxication, and referenced murder

“Does my dress look okay?” They turned again, trying to see how they looked from behind. They scrutinized the pale red fabric, watching how the shadows fell on their back as they twisted, the bottom fanning out. “It’s not too tight, right?” Two gentle hands grasped their wrists, spinning them around.

“Stop frettin’, ya look right,” the mechanic assured them. “Now hurry ya horse, or we’ll be late!” She fixed her navy waistcoat, smoothing out wrinkles. “Sirs, are y’all decent?” From behind the divider, Dominic called out that they were. The three guards popped out, greeting Cal. All three of them wore the original uniform of the Vasryian Guard, a dark red tunic with a brilliant yellow flower in the center covering silver breeches and a small, sheathed dagger on their sides. Their black riding boots, not unlike the ones Roman wore, also bore the Vasryian seal on the buckles.

“I can guide you to the Center Hall. The palace seems more like a labyrinth everyday I’m here,” Jamahl remarked, stepping forward. “Let’s go, before Prince Roman throws a fit that we’re not there!” Cal burst out laughing as they set off through the palace, able to see the crowds through the tall, gilded windows.

“Only a month…” Terrence mused. “Only a month, and His Highness has won back the hearts of the people like Draven never existed… it’s a miracle.” Cal giggled knowingly, sending a silent thank you to their ancestor. “I’m so excited!” the guard continued. “Prince Roman will make such a good king!”

“He looks more and more like his father every day. I almost called him by his father’s name, did you know?” Dominic chuckled. “It seems like yesterday Her Majesty was scolding Prince Roman for getting lost in the catacombs again, or His Majesty was teaching His Highness how to properly wield a sword.” He sighed. “Those dear, dead days beyond recall.”

?“Fifteen years,” Jamahl chimed in, “since that dreadful day.” He smiled bittersweetly at Cal and Wonder. “Thank you two, for bringing laughter back into these halls.”

“No, thank _y’all_ ,” Wonderling insisted, “for always believin’ in Roman.” A grateful, merry mood settled in them as they moved through the maze of hallways.

“Anybody know how long this ceremony is going to last? I’m planning on bringing snacks,” Cal joked. “Oh, come on, don’t give me that look, Sir Jamahl! I’m only _half_ kidding!” Laughter echoed across the walls, mixing with the growing clamour from the Center Hall. They could see a crowd beginning to form, a wild throng of feathers, furs, and scales jumbling together in blurs of color. They let out a heavy breath, never one to be at ease with masses. A hand squeezed their arm.

“Ya gon’ be fine, Cal?” Wonderling inquired under her breath, eyebrows raised with concern. Cal felt their face flush and nodded quickly, focusing on the floor ahead of them.

The guards escorted them through the growing multitude, bringing them into the Center Hall. Cal’s jaw dropped at the transformation that it had gone through since Draven’s defeat. The windows and chandeliers were newly polished, sparkling with a heaven-like light that cast rainbows across the marble floor. The throne Draven had used, which was ebony with golden ivy winding up the sides, was gone, replaced by the thrones of Roman’s father and mother, his own throne to the left of his mother’s. The three thrones were all made of a silvery wood, with scarlet cushions and elaborately carved reliefs in the arm rests and head crests. Every few feet down the hall were vases filled with blooming flowers of every hue, filling the air with pleasant aromas that reminded Cal of memories that weren’t even theirs.

Virgil, Logan, and Patton were clumped together at the front, talking amongst each other excitedly. “I’m thrilled to finally be able to listen to Vasry again. It’s been forever since I’ve heard it, and it’s such a pretty language compared to Aresan,” Patton was saying as they approached. The guards split off from Cal and Wonderling and went into a side room, where their superior was likely giving out orders for the celebratory day.

“Will they use it in the ceremony, though?” Logan countered, adjusting the glasses perched on his nose. “It is to my understanding that Aresan is the principal language used in the Vasryian palace. Did I misunderstand?”

“Oh, no, Aresan is only used for diplomatic purposes… usually… maybe _he_ changed it. But Vasry will definitely used. I remember Roman starting to learn the verses when we were kids. He always stuttered back then, but I‘m sure he’ll do fine today!” Patton grinned as he sat down. “Cal, I saved you a seat!” He waved excitedly at Cal, beckoning them to come and sit down.

“Aw, aren’t ya just a sweetheart, Patton,” Wonderling laughed. “I’ll go find my chair and leave y’all to yaselves for now, but I expect us to chat up afterwards, a’ight?” She smiled sweetly, mirth in her eyes.

“We literally just fought a battle together a month ago, what is there to catch up about?” Virgil scoffed with glee.

“Ya gon’ tell me everythin’ about ya and Roman, ya hear me? Or perhaps I oughta ask Patton?” she chuckled as Virgil flushed, unable to retort for fear of a backlash of wit. Wonderling escaped rapidly, finding her own seat a few rows behind where Cal and their friends would sit during the ceremony. As soon as the four took their seats, Cal still nervously adjusting their dress, an organ stuffed in a hidden corner of the hall began to play, signaling the entrance of the ascending prince. Cal immediately rose, as they had practiced at the rehearsal earlier that week, and turned to watch for Roman, eager to see what sort of regalia he had been forced into.

The mahogany doors at the end of the hall opened with grandeur, and in strode Roman. He wore a simple white tunic with tan breeches and black boots, a stark contrast to the dresses and suits the audience members wore. The soon-to-be-king also wore a golden cape that trailed for several feet on the floor, almost like a bride, with silver designs intricately sewn onto the fabric. Roman caught the eyes of his friends and smiled anxiously before returning his gaze to the end of the hall, where an old priest waited for him.

Roman walked slowly but purposefully, as though every step he took had been planned years in advance. He reached the raised platform where the priest seemed to tower above him despite her short stature.

“Prince Roman,” she greeted, her voice laced with cobwebs and dust. He bowed his head in salutation. “Thou stands before the judgement of the heavens today. Thou wishes to ascend to the Vasryian throne?”

“I do,” Roman stated.

“Then stand before thy ancestors and answer with an honest soul.” The priest retrieved a small, worn book from a shelf behind her, its cover a pale blue that had faded with the unseen sands of time. “Dost thou solemnly and honestly swear to govern and protect the Peoples of Vasryia and all its Territories, respecting the laws and customs of the lands thou reign over?” the priest said, her gnarled fingers curling around the spine of the book of myths.

“I solemnly promise to govern and protect, to the best of my ability, the Peoples over whom I have been given duty to reign.” They could hear Roman’s voice was shaking, no doubt scared he would stumble over his words and ruin everything.

“Will every action thou take be for the good and betterment of Vasryia and its Peoples? Will thee put the life of thy Nation before thine own? Will thee govern with an open and just heart, a wise and witful mind, and a humble and mighty soul?” The priest’s voice rang out, filling the entirety of the Hall so that each and every present being could hear the will of the heavens.

Roman hesitated. “I— I will.” Cal saw him swallow, digging his thumb’s nail into the soft flesh of his finger, almost hard enough to draw forth blood. The priest paused as though she noticed Roman’s momentary rumination, but continued without a word.

“Dost thou take the oath in good health, good mind, and good spirit, and allow the spirit of our Savior Calypso to take root in your soul?” Roman nodded. “Then all Ye who have objection to the ascension of our beloved and at last returned Prince to the throne of the Vasryian King, speak now or forever hold thy peace.” The priest fell silent, her grey eyes of sagacity turned to the audience, daring any one of them to stand up and speak their cavil. None spoke.

“The heavens have spoken. Prince Roman Machaizelli Bastian Prionsa of Vasryia shall ascend to the throne and bring balance once more to the lands as our rightful ruler. By the power vested in me by the spirit of Calypso herself, by the will of the Guardian and the Generals, I hereby proclaim thee the King of Vasryia. Come forth, and receive thy blessing from thy forebearers.” Roman glanced back quickly at Virgil, who smiled brightly, giving him a small thumbs up. Roman’s mood immediately shifted, his shoulders releasing their previous tension.

He stepped forward and kneeled, his head bowed. The priest placed the book she held before him. The prince kissed it, murmuring in his native language. “ _Eh saeuna fa eh saegha iwa oen na ise Cayso, kirō e talhyn viosa i fa fērka-dai e gal. Mae na Garda yaesen na alma reaga eh noma sha da eh uoye haseo fai na sasha de eh Vasr._ ” The priest mumbled something unintelligible. “ _E reja na alma Cayso!_ ” The priest repeated Roman’s word with a shriek, head upturned to the ceiling as though some invisible bird was perched upon the rafters. “ _E reja na alma na Garda! E reja na alma na Saeona!_ ” The walls of the hall seemed to shake with the fervor in Roman’s voice.

The priest put her book on a shelf behind them and took a vial of water. “These are the tears of Calypso, shed when she left her world behind.” As she spoke, the priest opened the vial and emptied it, the water spilling down Roman’s flower crown and face. The priest took a bottle of scented oil and poured it, too, over the prince. “This is the sweat of Calypso, shed when she trained with her Generals to protect her new world.” The third and final item the priest poured over Roman was a bowl of dark wine. “This is the blood of Calypso, shed when she died a thousand times to save her home.”

“I am one with the soul of Calypso. She shall live in me and she shall live in Vasryia,” Roman swore as the priest guided him to his feet. At last, the priest grasped a golden scepter and orb, bringing it in front of Roman. The woman handed them to the soon-to-be-king, her wise eyes smiling despite her emotionless expression.

“Prince Roman Machaizelli Bastian Prionsa, son of Vasryia, today thou ascends the throne as King of Vasryia. Thou hast sworn to protect thy nation until thy dying day. Thou hast received the blessings of Vasryia and her guardians. Now, turn to thy People and let them see the light of Calypso, the Generals, and the Guardian within thee.” Roman turned to the crowd, who waited with baited breath as he called out in the Vasryian tongue.

“ _E sa tu ren!_ ” he yelled, the Vasryians in the audience quickly responding in their native language. Once more, Roman kneeled, bowing his head as the priest placed a crown on his head.  
It was the Vasryian colors, gold and red, but it had gorgeous jewels adorning it in every hue, reminiscent of the Guardian’s wings. From where they were seated, Cal could see the small Vasryian seal embedded on the front.

“Rise, King Roman, and claim thy place in history.” Roman steadily arose, a new aura about him as he stepped to the throne, sitting down as a king should, elegant and graceful, but strong and proud. His gaze was unwavering, staring straight ahead at the carved scenes on the doors at the end of the hall as the priest kneeled, bowing before her new king. Cal and the others in the hall replicated the movement, bowing deeply. As they straightened, sitting back down, bells began to toll, clanging and ringing and proclaiming the ascenscion of the king at last. A cheer went up through the hall as Roman visibly relaxed in his chair, thankful for the ceremony to at last be over.

The crowd quickly dissipated, leaving Roman alone with the priest and a few select advisors to sign official documents. Cal heaved a sigh as the doors swung shut behind them. “Party time?” they asked hopefully. Virgil grinned conspiratorially.

“Party time— Ow! Logan!”

“The reception does not start for another three hours, and, anyways, Roman won’t be there for another five hours,” Logan reprimanded firmly. “I suggest we go and see the crowd outside, perhaps we can conversate with some of them. Roman will greet them in a couple of minutes, I believe.” Virgil rolled his eyes.

“ _Fine_ , we can be responsible adults for five hours,” he whined. “But as soon as Roman walks in that room I’m going to get him fucking _wasted!_ ” He giggled softly as Logan smacked him over the head with a huff.

The group headed outside, shielding their eyes from the burning sun. The mass of people lined up outside the palace was imposing, almost nerve-wracking for Cal as they stepped out of the palace. It was a warm day, one that without a doubt would end in a beautiful night, and not a cloud was in sight. Unfortunately, this meant that the gigantic crowd waiting to see their new king had absolutely no problem waiting hours to catch a glimpse in the beautiful weather.

They waited to the side, protected by one of the glass towers from the gaze of the burning star as they watched the crowd. Someone was selling treats to the little children who begged their parents for the sweet pastries, and another vender sold handheld flags that bore the Vasryian seal. A pair of old women sat in the grass playing in a board game to pass the time as their husbands played cards.

A sudden roar went up among the crowd, and Cal turned to see Roman exit the palace, waving at the Vasryian people. He walked up to the crowd held at bay only by a couple small wooden partitioners and several guards. He seemed to pick up on the eight eyes watching him curiously, and he pivoted to see his family. The royal waved them over, and, after a moment of deliberation, they heeded his request. As they got closer, the sounds of the throng grew, calls and shrieks and laughs and cries all jumbled into one cacophony of life.

Roman addressed the common people, saying, “ _E fauna tu hanna fai na meoso de na alda fa na saeuna agus talta tu chaka yai e na saga lune sa cayse de na fin de na ren-vio de eh babusha venna. E talhyn dorioga ferka sahaga e dan iga na alma Cayso-dai, agus e heuyo kaeh ser tu, eh Vasr, ina baego fa eh itda. Ingan vas irheo bakdan o vas irheo pasha, ingan vas kona o vas kana, ingan vas saeuna o vas fuath, e talhyn tu vas nunra vasya, na Vasr de Vasryia._ ” A paean went up once more.

The royal began to greet the people lined up to see him, grinning and saluting each one. He listened to the stories a group of miners told him about how Draven had begun to focus funds on expansion and conquering nearby planets, leaving their mines in dangerous conditions. Roman promised to look into it as soon as possible and pass safety regulations. He came upon a book club later; the individuals all gave him copies of fairy tales, somehow having learned that when escaping the palace, he and Patton had been unable to take their favorite book of fantasy worlds.

Patton, having grown up in Vasryia, was also a person of interest and recognition to the crowd; some of the braver children asked if they could touch his antlers, to which he agreed, a great delight among the kids. A few old women offered knitted scarves to all five of them, which they gladly accepted. Cal’s heart felt like it was going to explode from so much affection.

The last group Roman greeted that day, long after much of the crowd as dispersed and gone home, was a cluster of young children from a nearby orphanage. They were dressed in their finest, albeit plain, clothing, ranging from frilly dresses the color of lollipops to dusty suits to simple white tunics and a pair of trousers. The five of them spent a particularly long time with the children, most of them being orphans themselves.

Patton was very receptive with the youngest of the children, allowing to climb on top of his back for piggyback rides, and drape handmade garlands and daisy chains across his antlers. Logan recited a few children’s stories he had downloaded during his time as an android, though very few of the children spoke his interplanetary tongue and understood. Virgil and Cal played pick-up-sticks with some of them, purposefully allowing the children to win. Roman, of course, spoke a bit with the present caretaker before he sat with the children and told them fairytales, weaved flower crowns like his own, and played make-believe.

The caretaker took out a pocket watch and clapped their hands, garnering the children’s attention. They began to round up the kids, who all groaned in unison as they collected their belongings.

“Do they have to go?” Cal complained to Roman.

“I know, I want to adopt them all,” he replied with a pout. “But it’s dinner time, so they have to go.” Roman beamed as he waved goodbye to the kids as they walked back home; one paused and ran back, shoving a crumpled sheet of paper into the royal’s hands.

“ _Ekka sona?_ ” Roman asked the little boy, who couldn’t have been any older than six. The boy ducked his head shyly as he wrung his hands.

“ _E eayo tu seongu na basta taeya. Madda seun tu kkayeong vas. Haepsu,_ " he breathed, his eyes the size of the moon. “ _Tu sa eh laoch._ ” A nearly inaudible gasp left Roman’s lips as the boy hugged Roman’s legs and ran back to the group.

“ _Oi! Ekka alta?_ ” Roman called.

The kid turned on his heel as he ran, cupping his hands to his mouth. “ _Kit!_ ”

“You want to adopt the kid, don’t you?” Patton simpered as Roman nodded vigorously. “He said he saw the whole thing,” Patton translated. “He told us we’re his heros.”

“I’m going to fucking adopt that kid if it’s the last thing I do,” Virgil declared passionately.

“Alright, is it party time _now_?” Cal yelped as Logan hit their head in exasperation, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he nodded. “Fuck yeah, let’s get totaled!” they cheered as the five of them at last headed for the revelry.

They had not expected people to surround them as soon as they walked through the doors, mobbing them with questions and praise and noise. Cal would have gone straight to their room then and there and asked a nearby maid to get them a drink, never to see the light again, if it weren’t for Patton’s grasp on their arm, pulling further into the horde inside the ballroom.

They said a little prayer for their sanity and put on their best I-don’t-want-to-be-here smile as the others began to greet the mob. For their family, Cal reminded themself, they could do this for their family.

Cal breathed a sigh of relief when the last guests went away. They hadn’t been able to have a single drink in the time they had been there, which was a problem in Cal’s mind. They rolled their head, working out the kinks in their neck as they spied a waitress walking by with a tray full of fizzy pink drinks. Cal felt themself smirk as they weaved around the crowd for their prize.

They lost her in the crowd, pushed out of the way by a dancing couple, who apologized profusely, but got them nowhere closer to their cocktail of inhibition. Defeated, they returned to their family, eyes focusing on a shadow behind Roman, gasping as realization struck them.

An old woman had snuck up behind the Vasryian, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Cal felt for their blade, going numb when they remembered there had been a strict no weapons rule for the coronation’s ceremony and reception. They opened their mouth to warn the royal when the woman suddenly hugged him, squealing.

“Oh, Roman! You’ve grown!” Roman shrieked in surprise, though the offending noise quickly turned to laughter as he recognized the old lady.

“Grandma!” he cried with delight as he returned the hug. “Sweet Calypso, I thought… I thought Draven had killed you, too!”

“Oh, my God, Roman has a grandmother,” Virgil muttered as Logan side-eyed him a silent warning to behave properly.

“My darling, I may be a Prionsa in name only, but we have the same fighting spirit. I promised I would not fall to that man,” the woman said with a fierce glint in her eyes. Seeing the question in Roman’s eyes, she continued. “Your grandfather did _not_ die at that man’s hands. We hid with my sister on Dageron. He passed on to the heavens peacefully in his sleep some years ago and reunited with Duchess Haaija.” The woman’s eyes grew sad. “You must forgive me, my dear Roman. I’ve held off his funeral in hopes that you and Patton were alive as the guards told me. I thought Iske would like it, if you were there.”

Roman’s eyes were filled with tears. “I… I don’t know what to say…” He hugged his grandmother tighter, burying his face into the crook of her neck. “Thank you.” The woman outstretched an arm to Patton, who quickly accepted the offer, hugging both of them.

“From what I researched—” Logan quietly explained to Virgil and Cal, “—Lady Kalopsia married the father of Roman’s mother. His mother’s sister adopted Patton, making him and Roman cousins. It seems all three of them consider each other family despite having no blood relation, like us.”

Cal chuckled. “Yeah… yeah, like us.”

Roman and Patton pulled away with damp eyes, Roman wiping away the streams down his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Well, you boys go back to the party, alright? Don’t let an old woman like me stop you from having fun. It’s your coronation day, you should be celebrating!” the old crone said as she pushed her grandsons back towards the festivities.

“Okay, Grandmama!” Patton acquiesced as he hugged her goodbye. She disappeared into the crowd, just another face among hundreds. Cal watched her go with narrow eyes, truthfully quite jealous of the boys.

“You good, guys?” Virgil asked, eyebrows upturned in concern. Roman nodded, took Virgil’s hand, and squeezed it, nodding. Roman’s eyes darted up at the crowd, scanning the faces. His eyes lit up with recognition.

“Vespera!” Roman cried as he noticed a woman pulling a young girl. The woman looked up and broke into a smile as she saw Roman, drawing near despite the girl’s whines. “How are you, dear? It’s been too long,” he greeted as he drew the mysterious woman into a tight hug.

“It has,” the woman agreed. “I’m doing wonderful, thank you for asking. A little worn out caring for my daughter, Annamer,” she sighed, gesturing to the little girl, who hid behind her mother’s legs as she studied the strangers, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Vespera paused, smile falling. “Did you hear? He tried to invade Dageron during our Festival of Dying Suns?” Roman gasped, shaking his head. “The damn fool thought his petty army stood a chance against our mages.” The silence grew as all traces of joy disappeared from the Dageronian’s face. “I never thought I’d see you again. Draven told us you had died alongside your parents in a fire at your summer cottage. When I received notice that you to be crowned king, I almost didn’t believe it. It was quite a shock.”

“Well, here I am, alive and well… I… can’t saw the same for my parents, however.” Roman’s voice broke at the end, his shoulders tensing. Vespera placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

“They would be very proud of you, Roman. _I_ am very proud of you.” Roman smiled bittersweetly, bowing his head. The woman noticed someone in the crowd and called to them. “Samuel, could you please take Annamer? I think she’s getting cranky, and you can handle her better than I can when she gets testy.” A man quickly came to Vespera, kissing her on the cheek, and took the little girl’s hand, guiding her out of the ballroom.

Roman seemed to recall his friends were waiting to be introduced to this enigmatic lady and corrected his error. “Vespera, I’d like you to meet the people who helped me throughout my years as an outlaw and who’ve become family to me.”

“Hello to you all,” Vespera acknowledged, curtsying.

“You already know Patton,” he said as Patton waved, smiling at the old friend. “This is Logan, the brilliant man who always planned our exploits… even if I never really followed his instructions.” Logan huffed jovially and he bowed his head to Vespera, who curtsied again. “This is Cal, our bold but loveable gunner and leader. They’re the one who inspired us all to take a stand against Draven in the first place.”

“You’re wings are absolutely gorgeous, my dear,” Vespera commented as she shook Cal’s outstretched hand, her glittering eyes tracing every curve of their wings. Cal gave a curt nod in thanks. “And… who are you?” she asked Virgil, who was staring at the floor, uncomfortable with the attention.

“I’m Vee,” he mumbled under his breath, shuffling his feet. “I’m Roman’s _emaja_.” Vespera smiled.

“I’m Vespera Katriel.” She glanced at Roman, who nodded, gesturing for her to continue. “I… was Roman’s betrothed, once upon a time.” She laughed at Virgil’s surprise and apprehension. “You don’t have to worry, dear. I have my own husband, who I love as much as I’m sure you love yours.”

“Oh! Oh, we’re not—we’re not married,” Virgil blurted, his face coloring as Vespera hid a snicker behind her hand.

“Yet,” Logan muttered as Roman’s cheeks turned the same shade as Virgil, who turned in disbelief and smacked his shoulder. Cal snorted loudly, encouraging Vespera to laugh as well. Virgil opened his mouth to spit some witty retort at Logan, when a loud voice interrupted them.

“Ladies and gentlemen—” Cal bristled, “—we now invite you all to dance at the center of the room. First, however, the king shall perform the ceremonial coronation dance,” the voice announced. Roman cursed quietly.

“I was never any good at that,” he grumbled as he headed to the center of the ballroom.

“Vee, you might want to get a good place for this,” Vespera advised, already taking him by the arm and leading him as he spluttered, confused. Never one to miss out on a spectacle, Cal quickly claimed their own spot in the front. Roman was in the center of the circle the crowd had created, head bowed as the multitude hushed, allowing the music to trickle through, a soft piano accompanied by a mellow violin.

Roman’s eyes were closed as he began to move. He lifted an arm in the air, graceful as the winter winds as he swayed back and forth like a hesitant heart to the music. Roman was nothing less than the evanescent efflorescence of a flower blooming in the dark, a symbol of hope in a boundless void as he danced, spinning and twirling and bending to the will of the melody. Not a soul could drag their eyes away for one second as he danced, some even crying as they watched their long-lost king dance to a tune mournful but proud, bittersweet but hopeful. As the final note ebbed away to a time of what-ifs and yesterdays, Cal, like many others, found themself moved to applause as Roman, grinning despite the flush across his cheeks, bowed deeply.

“My dear People, friends, and family, I thank you all for celebrating today in my honor. Please, join me in dance and revelry,” Roman announced as the musicians in the back corner stage struck up a jolly tune, one apparently familiar to the Vasryian people who gasped and clapped with recognition and overtook the ballroom in a frenzied, energetic dance. Cal stepped back, bopping their head to the beat as Roman went to Virgil, bowing with his hand outstretched. Though they could not hear the words exchanged between the two, Roman must have delivered another one of his cheesy romantic lines, for Virgil’s face went red and he smacked Roman’s arms despite grinning like the lovesick idiot he was and gladly following Roman to the center as Logan took Patton’s hands and led him in a small waltz and the Drisine laughed, his smile bright as the stars.

They watched the dancing for a while until they got bored of ogling all the pretty dresses flashing by them in whirls of hues, and retreated to wall, where like-minded people were resting on one of the benches or were simply plastered against the wall in what Cal assumed was a failing attempt to be invisible. They hung out by a vase, the aroma of the flowers nearly overwhelming as they closed their eyes, letting their mind fill with the sound of the piano’s crescendos and diminuendos.

“Ya seem bored.” Cal was unsurprised at the sound of the mechanic’s voice. They opened their eyes to see her standing in front of them, her waistcoat from earlier gone and two buttons of her top undone. Her face was painted with a faint flush as she nursed an empty wine glass, depositing it on a tray as soon as a waiter got close enough. “Wanna chase away the dog and tell me what this angel hoo diddy is all about?” she asked, gesturing to Cal’s wings. Cal’s face flushed as they laughed awkwardly.

“Well, I’ve only had them for about a month, so… I don’t really know what’s really going on.” They shrugged, trying to shake off the embarrassment growing in their chest. “I’m, um… not, not what you said… I’m not ‘an angel’. I think.”

“What are ya, then?” Wonderling smirked. “Besides a kick-ass fighter, I mean.”

“Logan said I… transformed or something when I touched the Gazer Stone. Apparently, I’m a Stargazer.” Wonderling tilted her head, confused. “You know… the mythical beings who protect the legacy of Calypso and her Generals? ‘Daughters of Calypso and sons of the Guardian’ and all that?” Wonderling shook her head. “It’s—it’s not a big deal, don’t worry about.”

“Hey, Wonder, I’s wond’rin’ when I’d sees ya!” a man called as he came up from behind them, a pretty young woman’s arms wrapped around his shoulders as he dragged her limp body across the floor. “Ada found the apple jack again. I got’s ‘er a cup of Adam’s ale, but I thinks she just needs a dream before she airs the paunch. Ya thinks ya could give a horse?”

“Allers, Rowan.” Wonderling took a step forward, taking one arm of the woman and slinging around her own shoulder. “Hey—Rowan, ya never met Cal, have ya? C’mere, I’ll get y’all acquainted with one another. Rowan—Rowan, stick ya hand out, this ain’t Legion!” The man—Rowan—grumbled, but stuck out his hand in a friendly greeting. “Now, Rowan, this is Cal, a friend of the troublemaker boys, though Cal’s much more manageable than the rest of them, battling ancient evils aside.” Cal nodded curtly, firmly shaking Rowan’s almond-colored hand. “And, Cal, this is Rowan, my best friend’s brother—”

“Hey, I’m yer best friend, too!”

“Only sometimes, Rowan, sweetie.” Cal hid a giggle behind a cough. “Now, let’s get Ada to bed, how ‘bout it?” Wonderling heaved Ada’s dead weight back onto her, shifting her limp head into a more comfortable position. The mechanic paused, and turned back to Cal. “I wouldn’t wait up for me, Cal. Ada can be a bit much to handle when she’s whittled. Tell the boys I said good night, will ya?”

“...sure.” Wonderling smiled and thanked them, and started off with Rowan, moving slowly to keep the sleeping woman upright. Cal felt something akin to disappointment settle in their stomach. The mechanic was a beautiful, kind woman, but she had a job—two, actually, two that probably kept her very busy. This was very likely one of the last times Cal would be able to see her, talk freely with her. Unless they did something about it. “Miss—Miss Wonderling?” The mechanic turned around, eyebrows raised. “Would you, um…” Sweet Calypso, it felt like their face was on fire. “...would you like to… to share a glass sometime? I—I know you’re probably very busy and all, but I—”

“Cal?” They fell silent unhesitatingly, eager to hear their response. She grinned, radiating joy and warmth. “I would _love_ to.” With that, she resumed her assistance again, Rowan and Wonderling continued to guide the unconscious woman to the room where she was staying. Cal sat themself down on a nearby chair, an unbelieving smile on their face.

Patton came running up to them, his excitement almost touchable. “Cal! Are you enjoying the party?” He quickly downed a tall flute filled with something golden, his cheeks flushing with colors and his eyes glazing just a little bit more as soon as he swallowed the sparkling liquid. “Whoo, that’s strong,” he mumbled. “Are you having fun? I said that before, haven’t I?”

Cal laughed, taking Patton’s glass and setting it on the tray of a passing waiter. “No more good shit for you, Patton,” they snickered as he pouted, whining at the loss of his liquid oblivion. “And, yeah, I am having fun. It’s been one of the best nights of my life.” They smiled, noticing Roman and Virgil in the center of the room, beneath golden chandelier burning bright with the flames of a thousand candles, their eyes locked as they danced slowly across the floor. “Looks like they’re having fun,” they noted, jutting their head at the lovers.

Patton smiled softly as he at last sat down next to them, though still extremely energetic, swinging his feet like a child and giggling and hiccuping uncontrollably at random intervals. “Yeah. I’m really happy for them, Cal. Roman and Virgil have both been through _so much_ … they really deserve someone who loves them.”

“Well, _we_ love them both, right?”

“We do, but…” Patton’s voice grew a tad more serious, despite his eyelids starting to flutter. “They need someone who will devote their whole being to them. They need something _other_ than friends. I might be fine with family, or people who become like family to us, but Roman, and Virgil, and a lot of other people need someone to hold them and empathize with them and kiss them and love them in a different way. I still don’t really understand it—maybe that’s because I grew up away from my kind—but I’m starting to learn.” Patton’s eyes closed as he leaned against Cal, breathing deeper and slower with each inhale. “I’m really happy for them,” he whispered again as his breathing evened out, eyes staying shut.

“Patton, if you’re— Oh, well, that’s… alright, let’s get you to bed,” they mumbled as they got up, holding the shapeshifter upright. They tried to lift him up, struggling. Cal let out a defeated sigh. “...I guess we could stay here for a _few_ minutes…” they conceded as they sat back down, maneuvering the Drisine into a much more comfortable position against their shoulder.

They saw Logan walk by a couple minutes later and called him over so at least they’d have company to conversate with. “What happened to Patton?” he asked, sitting on Patton’s left.

“He got a little too tipsy, he’ll be fine by the morning.” They chuckled, shaking their head as they thought back on misadventures they had had while drunk. The last time they had had a drink had been at _Sleeping Stars_. So much had come from that little glass. They spied a waiter passing by and snatched a drink from the tray, downing it in one gulp. At Logan’s raised eyebrow, they teased, “What? Last time I drank enough to actually have courage we ended up dethroning a bastard and making Roman a king. Who knows what will happen this time?” Logan snorted, eyes going wide as he realized the sound he had just made was a laugh.

Pointing a finger at Cal in an attempt to seem serious, Logan threatened, “If the fact that I just laughed ever makes it way back to Patton, I’ll never let you drink again.” Cal giggled, already feeling the effects of whatever they had just swallowed.

“Sure, sure.” A thought struck them. “Hey, how much has Virgil had? He’s not good with alcohol either, right?”

“You’re correct, though I’m surprised you remember that, Cal,” he replied with a hint of admiration.

“Got to look out for my friends, don’t I?” they contemplated. “Calypso knows where I’d be without you all. Probably would’ve thrown myself into space to fill the black hole inside of me… though I think you guys have done a pretty good job yourselves.” The scholar grinned.

Logan fell silent, his gaze on the sleeping Drisine. “Who knows where _I’d_ be…” he mulled. “I would still be back home, working with the Guild. I might have actually reprogrammed myself…” He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “Look how far we’ve come.”

They let themselves bask in the comfortable silence, needing no words to speak their friendship. Cal almost fell asleep to Patton’s subtle breathing, his chest rising and falling in time with the music that danced and spun and twirled through the hallways. Their eyes were closed, the darkness behind their eyelids no longer cold and distant, but alive and warm like a summer’s night spent exploring fields of fireflies.

Cal heard the tread of footsteps approach them and opened their drowsy eyes. Roman and Virgil were standing above them. “Sorry, Cal, did we wake you?” Virgil asked.

“Nah, I was just… resting my eyes…”

“...Whatever you say, Cal,” Virgil snickered. “It’s suffocating in here, how about we move into the gardens?” Cal nodded, wordlessly standing up, Logan helping them to bring a sleeping Patton to his feet. “Want me to bring him to his room?” Virgil offered.

Cal waved it off, saying, “It’s fine, I’ll just sit him down on a bench outside. Wouldn’t want you to miss a second of your lover’s coronation party.” Virgil blushed, swatting Cal’s arm playfully.

The five went outside, where only a few guests milled about in the shadows. Fairy lights decorated the silhouettes of trees, each little spark a different color. It was dark out, stars creeping out of their daylight sleep to shimmer dazzlingly, painting the heavens with life. The shadows of roses and weeping trees seemed to move in the low light, their spirits laughing together and dancing in the firelight of the moon.

“I’ll miss living among the stars,” Roman whispered, wrapping an arm around Virgil’s side, pulling him close.

“ _I’m_ really going to miss our days of swashbuckling outlawing,” Virgil mused, resting his head on the royal’s collarbone. “I suppose Vasryia has laws against stealing goods and fighting every asshole you come across?” he asked Roman.

“Fortunately, yes, we do,” he laughed. “Though, I certainly agree, I will miss having complete and utter freedom from responsibilities and consequences and whatnot. But, who knows? Maybe we’ll have some adventures with time.”

“Oh, please,” Cal snorted with merriment. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll be on another adventure before we even know it.” For a moonlit moment, their eyes glowed silver as the clouds, perhaps just a reflection of the lights strung about the gardens, or perhaps but an auspice. “ _I just hope you’ll be willing to listen._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> 1\. _“Eh saeuna fa eh saegha iwa oen na ise Cayso, kirō e talhyn viosa i fa fērka-dai e gal. Mae na Garda yaesen na alma reaga eh noma sha da eh uoye haseo fai na sasha de eh Vasr.”_ (“My love for my country shall be as high as the heart of Calypso, which I promise to live in for every day I breathe. May the generals rip the soul out of my body if ever my eyes stray from the good of my People.”)  
>  2\. _“E reja na alma Cayso!” “E reja na alma Garda! E reja na alma Saeona!”_ (“I invoke the spirit of Calypso!” “I invoke the spirit of the Generals! I invoke the spirit of the Guardian!”)  
>  3\. _“E sa tu ren!”_ (“I am your king!”)  
>  4\. _“E fauna tu hanna fai na meoso de na alda fa na saeuna agus talta tu chaka yai e na saga lune sa cayse de na fin de na ren-vio de eh babusha venna. E talhyn dorioga ferka sahaga e dan iga na alma Cayso-dai, agus e heuyo kaeh ser tu, eh Vasr, ina baego fa eh itda. Ingan vas irheo bakdan o vas irheo pasha, ingan vas kona o vas kana, ingan vas saeuna o vas fuath, e talhyn tu vas nunra vasya, na Vasr de Vasryia.”_ (“I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the love and support you have shown me this past month in light of the end of tyrannical reign of my late uncle. I promise to uphold every oath I took before the spirit of the heavens, and I swear to always put you, my People, in the forefront of my mind. Whether we face hardship or we face peace, whether we rise or we fall, whether we love or we hate, I promise to you we shall do it together, as the people of Vasryia.”)  
>  5\. _“Ekka sona?”_ (“What’s this?”)  
>  6\. _“E eayo tu seongu na basta taeya. Madda seun tu kkayeong vas. Haepsu.”_ (“I saw you fight a big black monster. Mistress says you saved us. Thank you.”)  
>  7\. _“Tu sa eh laoch.”_ (“You’re my hero.”)  
>  8\. _“Oi! Ekka alta?”_ (“Hey! What’s your name?”)  
>  9\. _“Kit!”_ (“Kit!”)


End file.
